


Private Lessons (Tutor AU)

by HosiePublisher



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Tutor AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HosiePublisher/pseuds/HosiePublisher
Summary: My best friend wants to teach me a lesson...Three years ago, my ex-boyfriend dumped me when he realized that I couldn’t quite ‘get there’ in the bedroom--no matter how hard he tried. Ever since then, I’ve been too ashamed to date again. I feel broken. Defective.Now I’m at university, and my best friend Josie, lesbian hockey star and self-described lady’s woman, has decided to help build my confidence by giving me some ‘private tutoring’. In bed. She’s convinced that with a bit of hands-on demonstration, she’ll be able to teach me just how much I can enjoy myself between the sheets.It sounds like the perfect solution. The only problem is, I’ve been desperately in love with Josie from the moment I set eyes on her.They were just meant to be lessons. Neither of us expected it to turn into something much more…
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson & Josie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 63
Kudos: 375





	1. Prologue

“Never?” 

I pull the covers up over my naked body, shifting uncomfortably in my tiny single bed. “Um. No. Never.” 

My boyfriend stares at me like I’ve grown another head. “I’ve never made you come?” 

I clear my throat. “No. Can you speak a bit quieter, please? I don’t want mom to hear.” Landon’s so angry, he’s apparently forgotten we’re in my tiny childhood bedroom, with my mother sleeping on the other side of the wall. She’s wiped out from her meds, but if she does wake up and overhear this conversation, I’ll have to fake my own death and go live in a cave. 

He just stares at me in utter horror. “We’ve been together three years, and you haven’t ever thought to mention that you hadn’t come?” I open my mouth, and he cuts me off.  
“And of course, it’s my fault. Because I’m just a total asshole, and everything I do is wrong, right?” 

“No! Not at all! It’s not your fault, baby. It’s me.” I squirm in my sheets. “It’s actually quite common. Ten percent of women never orgasm in their lives.” 

He looks at me with pure, raw disgust on his face. “That’s messed up, Hope.” “What do you mean? I—it’s not my fault, either. It’s just the way I am.” 

He stands up jerkily and starts pacing the room, running a hand through his hair. “This is bullshit,” he mutters. “I can’t be with a woman who I can’t even have sex with. What’s the point?” 

Dread shoots through my blood. Oh my God. Oh my God, he’s going to leave me. I reach for him. “Landon, please. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t see the point. I knew it would upset you, and it’s not like I can do anything about it.” 

“I’ve been with plenty of girls, I’ve never had this problem!” He snaps. 

“There’s something wrong with you!” I flinch. 

He shakes his head, picking up his jeans. “I can’t do this.” 

My stomach drops. “What? What do you mean?” 

“I mean, we’re over.” 

Tears blur my vision. “I— but half an hour ago, you were telling me how much you loved me!” 

He ignores me, yanking his jeans up his thighs. 

I slide off the bed and grab his arm. “Please. Don’t do this. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. I’ll go to the doctor. Or a therapist. Maybe there’s a drug I can take, or something—” 

He snorts. “Like that’s any less embarrassing. My girlfriend needed therapy and prescription pills before I could get her off. It’s humiliating. It’s insulting, Hope.” 

“Why is it humiliating? It’s my vagina! It has nothing to do with you! Landon, please. I can’t do this on my own.” I’m starting to panic. I remember the dark days before I met him, when it was just me and mom and GCSEs and medical bills. The thought of having to handle everything all alone again feels like a black hole starting to swallow me up. “Please. Please.” 

He shakes me off. “Look at it this way,” he says reasonably, picking up his shirt from where it’s puddled on the floor. “If I can’t get sex from this relationship, I’ll have to go find it elsewhere. D’you want me to break up with you, or cheat on you?” He shrugs the shirt on, flicks his hair out of his face. “Really, I’m doing you a favor.” 

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal,” I’m half in tears. “It feels good for you, right? And we love each other, so what does it matter?” 

“It matters, because it makes me feel like a total twat.” He snaps on his watch and yanks open my bedroom door. I grab his hand. Tears are sliding down my face. “You said you wanted to be with me forever.”

“Well, maybe next time, you should inform a guy before he wastes three years of his life that you’re fucking defective,” he snarls, and slams the door in my face.


	2. Hope

FOUR YEARS LATER

Blood thunders through my veins,and I close my eyes, shuddering, pulling the covers up to my chin. In my head, her soft skin slides under me. Her breasts press and tremble against mine, soft and warm. My thigh pushes between her legs, my fingers tighten on her wrists, my lips press against her throat, burning. My legs tense and shake, and a bead of sweat dribbles down the back of my neck. I clench the bed sheets, my body tightening like a spring, waiting for the impact that’s getting closer, and closer, and—

And nothing.

My breath leaves me in a gasp. I flop back on my mattress, pulling my hand out from under the waistband of my jeans, and stare at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath. A machine-gun bassline thumps painfully through my bedroom walls. It’s Friday night, and my flatmates are getting ready to go clubbing.

A tear drips down the side of my nose and soaks into my bed sheet.

When I pull myself together and head into the party, the room is brimming with acid-bright colored light, distorted and shifting over glittery faces like ocean waves. Bodies jump and tangle in the dark. Someone’s cracked out the glow sticks, and they’re shimmering up and down everybody’s arms like electric jewelry.

“HOPE!” I turn and see a guy with a lop-sided grin and a hockey jacket leaning over my kitchen table. I have never seen him before in my life. He waves a bottle of lemonade at me. “Wanna drink?”

I scan the room. Everyone seems to be having fun. I watch as two of my flatmates collapse on my sofa, snogging deeply. I don’t even remember the last time I kissed someone. What’s the point? Kissing just leads to sex. I’d rather save myself the disappointment.

“Yeah, thanks.” I don’t normally drink, but I’m way too sad to handle this party sober.

Lop-sided grin hands me a plastic cup. “There you are, babe. Vodka lemonade.” I take a deep swig, and it burns my mouth so hard I almost gag. His breath is hot in my ear. “Yeah, it’s the cheap stuff. Best just down it.” He taps his cup to mine and throws it back, gulping it down in one.

I fucking hate the taste of alcohol. The only way I’ll get it down is by necking it, so I do the same, tossing it back. I make it through almost the whole cup before sputtering and coming up for air.

“That’s a good girl,” he grins, wrapping his arm around my waist. I try to push him off me, but he just tightens his grip. “Aw come on, baby, loosen up.”

I shove at him again. “I’m not interested.” No response. “ _Get off_.”

A voice pipes up from behind me. “Clarke, who the Hell invited you? And what the fuck are you doing with Andrea?” Every muscle in my body relaxes as my best friend Josie pushes through the crowd, tugging me out of his arms. She glares at Clarke over my shoulder. “ _She’s mine_.”

“Jesus. Fine.” He lifts up his hands. “Can I at least watch?”

“No.” She kisses my cheek, nuzzling me. She smells like perfume and whiskey. My heart flutters. “Get the _fuck_ out of my house, you little creep.”

He slinks off into the crowd. “My name’s not Andrea,” I find myself telling her, yet again. “It’s Hope. Hopey. No one calls me Andrea.”

“Why? Have they never looked at you?” She twirls me around to face her and drags her eyes down my dress. “Wow. Fuck. You look so hot, babe.”

So does she. Her brown hair is freshly washed from practice, falling down past her shoulders, and she’s wearing a black strappy top that shows off the subtle muscle in her arms. I take another swallow of my drink to avoid staring at the soft, white swell of her boobs over the neckline of her shirt. She’s so beautiful it makes my head spin.

There’s probably a word for falling achingly, desperately in love with your roommate on the first day of university. Lucky, maybe. Or, in my case, horrendous. Because Josie, sociology student, hockey player, and self-confessed ladies’ woman, is possibly the biggest flirt on the planet.

Even as I watch, a girl she once fucked comes up to us and stands on her tiptoes, whispering something in Josie’s ear. Josie smiles back at her, eyes twinkling. Jealousy burns in my throat. Over the past three years, I’ve watched from a distance as Josie drags endless women into her bedroom and locks the door. I’ve heard her making them moan through the walls as I lie awake in my cold, empty bed. I’ve watched her and wanted her and never, ever made a move. Because we’re friends.

Sometimes I envy gay men. At least guy-friends don’t usually snuggle with their mates and play with each other’s hair. They don’t stand next to each other with their faces close enough to kiss. When you’re a girl, it’s normal for your best friend to act like your girlfriend.

Josie holds my hand and sneaks into my room for a spoon all the time, and it drives me up the fucking wall. I don’t want to be her friend. I want so, so much more.

Josie dips her head to say something to the girl, and without thinking, I wrap my wrists around her neck, pressing our bodies close. “No,” I growl.

Josie laughs, completely delighted. “Well, this is new,” she murmurs against my skin, swaying us to the music. “I missed you, too.” She glances over my shoulder. “Sorry, Jade. Apparently, I’m taken.”

I bury my face into her neck. Her skin is so soft, and she smells like soap and flowers. “I love you,” I mumble. My mind is going fuzzy. My feet stumble over each other.

“I love you too,” she squeezes me tighter. “So, so, so much.”

I have absolutely no idea what happens next, except suddenly, I’m kissing her throat.

Her whole body jolts against mine as my mouth touches her skin. “Andrea,” she whispers, cupping my face. The party flashes around us, pounding music and streaks of light, but it all fades out as she touches our foreheads together. Her warm breath flutters over my lips, her thumbs stroke over my cheeks. She’s going to kiss me. Finally, after all these years, she’s going to kiss me.

Through the haze of excitement, something niggles at the back of my mind. There’s something I have to tell her. Something I need to warn her about. I pull back and look at her. Her cheeks are red, her eyes glazed. She’s so stunning I can’t breathe.

“I can’t have sex with you,” I slur. “Sorry.”

She blinks. “Um. Okay. That’s okay.” A frown crosses her face. “Hey, you smell like vodka. Have you been drinking?”

All at once, gravity seems to break. I tip into her, almost knocking her over. She grabs my elbows. “Andrea?” Her tone is urgent.

“Are you feeling okay? Are you getting dizzy? Hope?” It sounds like her voice is coming from way above me. I try to nod, but everything rushes, and suddenly, I’m on the floor. Josie drops to her knees next to me. “Oh, shit.”

Her hand curves over my cheek, and I press into the touch. “Are you sick? How much have you had to drink? I swear you seemed fine, like, a minute ago.”

I cover my face, squeezing my eyes shut. Someone dancing above us staggers into us and trips, sending beer sloshing onto the carpet, and Josie swears, grabbing my hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you out of the way, before you start a pile-up.”

She helps me up and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me through the crowded room. I put my head on her shoulder, suddenly too dizzy to walk straight.

She props me up against the wall as she unlocks her bed room door, then gently pushes me inside, shutting off most of the noise.

I try to collapse onto her navy bedspread, but I miss it, dropping onto her fluffy white rug.

Suddenly, she’s there again, touching my face. “Babe. Look at me. How many drinks have you had?”

“One,” I mumble.

Her brow creases. “Seriously? What was it?” I shake my head and snuggle up into her shoulder. “Hope, this is important. Someone might have spiked you. What did you drink?”

I thrust my cup at her. There’s still about an inch of liquid left at the bottom. She gently pulls it out of my hand and sniffs it, then takes a tentative sip. Her face flushes red. “Who made you this?”

“The guy. With the lop-sided g-grin.”

“Clarke.” She looks murderous. “I’m going to fucking kill him. What did he call this, a vodka lemonade?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“This is literally straight vodka. With like, a splash of lemon.” She takes another sip and winces. “Jesus, babe. How much did you drink?”

“Whole cup.” She groans, and tears prick my eyes. I’m such an idiot. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell. All alcohol tastes that bad to me.”

“It’s not your fault. But you are gonna feel like hell tomorrow. Don’t worry, I have conditioning with him in the morning, I’ll throw a dumbbell at his dick. He is such a little creep.” She pulls me into her arms. “Why were you drinking at all? Don’t tell me I’ve finally corrupted you.”

I shiver. “I was sad. Thought it would help.” Then, embarrassingly, I start to cry. I’ve comforted my drunk flatmates on countless club bathroom floors as they sobbed on my shoulder. I finally understand what it feels like. It’s like there’s sadness in every atom of my body.

“Oh, fuck. Baby. Has something happened? Fuck, is your mom okay?”

“I—I was trying to get off, but I couldn’t come.” The words drop out of my mouth without even checking in with my brain. My eyes widen. I touch my lips. What the Hell?

“Oh.” To my absolute horror, her lips quirk up. “Sorry, babe, I don’t mean to laugh at your tragic sexual frustration. I was just expecting something a bit more upsetting.” She pats my cheek, then reaches to pull a big plastic box from under her bed. It’s filled with brightly colored sex toys. I don’t even know what half of them do. “You can borrow one of my vibrators if you like.”

“It w-won’t work.”

She pulls out a bright pink rabbit. “Trust me, this is, like, a really good vibrator. I guarantee it will work. But you’re bi, right? Do you prefer something dick-shaped?” She pulls out a fucking giant purple dildo. “You can have this if you want. I won it in the uni Sexpression quiz. Kinda grosses me out, honestly.” She examines it. “I don’t know why they mould in the veins. Do dicks actually look like this?”

I shiver. “It won’t work. Nothing ever works.”

“What do you mean, nothing ever works?”

I cover my face. “Nothing. Ever. Works.”

She’s silent for a second, staring at me. “I—Hope, are you telling me you’ve never had an orgasm?”

Hearing it from her mouth feels horrifying. Heat rushes up my throat. “I feel sick,” I mumble, wobbling to my feet and staggering over to the window. I feel her come up behind me as I fumble with the latch; her chest presses up against my back as she leans over me and easily swings the window open.

Cool night air swallows my face, and I close my eyes, leaning over the windowsill, taking in big gulps of the black sky. She rubs circles on my back, peering out into the street below.

“Oh, look, there’s my economics tutor. I’ll bake you a cake if you throw up on him.”

I choke on my own tears. “‘M gonna regret tellin’ you that tomorrow.”

She frowns. “Why? I won’t make you regret it. It’s quite normal, I think. Lots of women have trouble orgasming.”

I glare up at her. “How would you know?”

She shrugs. “I’m like, addicted to sex advice podcasts. Does it upset you?”

“What do you fucking think? It’s horrible. It makes me feel broken.” A few more tears squeeze out. “I’m sorry I tried to kiss you.”

She tucks a bit of hair behind my ear. “Oh, don’t worry about that, baby. It happens. Let’s forget it.”

Her face is millimetres away from mine. It’s hard not to get overwhelmed when she’s this close to me. “It’s just you’re so beautiful,” I tell her.

She smiles. “So are you. I always thought so.”

There are magnets in my skin, tugging me into her. I take a step closer—and stagger, tripping over my own feet.

“Ookay. Nap time, I think.” She slides her arms under my knees and picks me right up off the ground. “Hey,” she puts my hand on her bicep. “While you’re up here, check out my sexy hockey muscles.”

“I can walk,” I say into her neck.

She pats my thigh clumsily. “And I’m very proud of you for learning.” She lays me down on her bed, plumping up the pillow behind my head. “Lie down. I’ll be back in a sec, I’m just going to go slit Clarke’ s throat with a blunt razor. Drink some water, kay? I’ll be back soon.”

She leaves. I try to keep my eyes open, but her ceiling has turned into a carousel, and it spins and spins around me, making me feel sick. Party music pounds through the walls, through my head, thumping like a heart. I close my eyes to make it stop. Just for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter every day. Thanks for reading.


	3. Josie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 3. Enjoy!!

“Jo. Wake up.” Soft. I’m all pressed up against something soft and warm. I snuggle in closer. “Jo.” It moves away. I moan, reaching out blindly, and immediately get a palmful of boob. Happiness shivers through me. Fuck, yes, I love waking up with a girl. Love when they’re all soft and sleepy. I press my face into her waist, breathing in the sweet smell of perfume. “You smell great, babe,” I mumble. 

“Josie.”

That voice snaps me awake. I squint my eyes open to see Hope sitting up in my bed. My heart stops for a second. She looks—ruined. Her red dress is falling off one shoulder, and her lipstick is smeared over her cheek. Her dark hair falls around her face like jagged black flames. Last night comes back to me in a flash. I smile up at her. “Hey, Hopey, sorry for groping you.” I stretch out my arms.

“Wanna spoon?” On second thoughts, maybe that’s a bad idea. It’s not the first time we’ve shared a bed, but she’s usually wearing pajamas, not a clingy bodycon that can ride up in the night and leave her soft legs all naked and tangled up with mine—

“I feel like I’m dying,” she says, and I blink, trying to focus. “Shit. Yeah. Your first ever hangover, right?” 

She nods, rubbing her chest. “My heart’s going so fast,” she whispers. Anger spiderwebs through me, sudden and vicious. I hug her. “It’s normal, babe. Hangover anxiety. Don’t worry, Clarke’s dead. Alyssa helped me bury his body.” She shivers in my arms. She looks so miserable, I can’t stand it. I just want to pick her up and carry her around, for a bit. The thing about Hope is, she’s so small. It fucks me up. Probably barely touches five foot five. She’s so angelic, with this silky auburn curtain of hair, and sharp chin, and tiny little rosebud mouth. She dresses in sweet little dresses and pleated skirts and soft jumpers. Long socks and ballet flats. She’s normally so studious and pretty and put-together. I’ve never seen her like this—all smudged and sexy.

I watch, half-dazed, as she pushes back her hair, exposing the curve of her throat. She’s so close, I could just lean forward and press my mouth there, against the soft skin— She shivers again, and I blink back to reality. I need to pull myself together. Yeah, she almost kissed me last night, but drunk girls kiss each other all the time. It was nothing. I clear my throat. “Okay, babe. Let’s get you some food. You’ll feel better with a full stomach.” I scoop her up, wrap her in my team jacket, and tug her out into the kitchen. It looks like a bombsite. I clear away some empty cans and deposit her in a chair at the table, then pour her a glass of orange juice. She gulps it down in about a second flat, as I survey the contents of my fridge. “Eggs okay?” 

“I can make my own breakfast. I have muesli.” I snort, cracking eggs in a bowl. “muesli will not cure a hangover, babe. It’ll just make you cry again.”

She’s quiet for a few seconds.

“Again?” I pour the eggs into a pan. “You don’t remember anything from last night?”

“Not… much. Just flashes.” 

“You got pretty upset. Told me you’d never had an orgasm.” There’s a few seconds of silence.

“Oh my God,” she whispers. “Oh my God.” 

I grind in some pepper and root around the fridge for cheese. “It’s okay. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not actually a particularly good secret. You could be like, a widow who poisoned her ex-husband, or something, that would be a lot cooler. You want white or brown toast, babe?”

She doesn’t respond. I turn to look at her, and my heart drops. She’s dead white and trembling. She looks panicky, like she thinks something terrible is about to happen to her. 

“No,” she moans. “No, no. I t-told you that?” 

Oh, shit. I cross the room and wrap my arms around her. “Breathe, Hope. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

I remember what she said last night. It makes me feel broken. I didn’t realize how much this was hurting her. She’s really, really ashamed. She shakes me off and runs her hands over her face.

“Fuck. I’m s-sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

“Why?” I stroke her shoulder. “You’ve not done anything wrong, babe, don’t be sorry.” She just shakes her head. A tear rolls down her cheek. I love Hope more than pretty much anyone else on the planet; watching her cry makes me feel like my chest is getting torn apart.

“I could help,” I offer, desperate. “I could help you, if that’s what you want.” Images flash through my mind, of what helping her might actually entail. I swallow. “Honey, please don’t cry, it’s okay, really, it’s normal.” 

She stands up, pushing back her chair. “I’m sorry. Please forget it.”

“But—”

Her chest hitches with a sob. “Please. Please. Just—let’s not talk about it anymore?” 

“Hope, it’s okay. Your worth is not defined by your ability to orgasm, for Christ’s sake.” I reach for her. “Talk to me.” 

She just shakes her head and slams out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with a pan of burning eggs, and a shit ton of questions.


	4. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because chapter 3 is a little short...here's another chapter. Enjoy!!

I lock myself in my bedroom and take the longest shower I’ve ever had. When I’m finally done, I get dressed, then just sit on the end of my bed, trying to breathe. I’m completely humiliated. Of all the people I could’ve spilled my guts to, it had to be Josie.

_Josie._

And she was so nice about it. Of course, she was nice about it. Josie’s always nice, she doesn’t have any other settings. But deep down, she must have been disgusted with me. I’ve fancied Josie since the moment I first met her. I remember, she was standing in the kitchen of our old uni halls flat, pulling a tray of potato faces out of the oven. She looked at me and smiled, and it was like a spotlight shone down on her. At first, I dismissed it, because she was a girl. Then I found out she was gay, and dismissed it again, because—let’s be honest.

 _Why the Hell_ _would she want me?_ I’m ‘ _fucking_ defective’, and she adores sex, so what’s the point in telling her how I feel? 

I hear another one of my flatmates stagger out of their room, and Josie’s laughter floats through my bedroom walls. My tiny room suddenly feels suffocating.

I shove my books in my bag and head out to the library. I feel a bit calmer after a few hours in the library. It’s a Saturday morning, and most of the university is lying in, recovering from the night before. My heeled boots click gently down the hardwood floors as I wander through the Renaissance section, scanning the spines for a particularly elusive Shakespeare textbook. I need it for my essay, but I can’t find it anywhere. Frowning down at the directory, I turn a corner—And freeze. 

There, standing in the middle of the aisle, is my ex-boyfriend, Landon.

For a second, I can’t move. I just watch him. He pulls out a book and frowns at the cover for a second, then slides it back in. The movement displays the curl of his bicep, and I watch the muscle bulge in his tight t-shirt. He looks good. His black hair is a little longer, and his skin is tanned. He’s clearly been working out. He looks nothing like the eighteen-year-old boy who dumped me four years ago. 

Even as I watch him, he glances up, and almost drops his stack of books. “Hope?” He calls, and I cringe as his voice echoes through the silent library. “Is that you?”

“Landon?” I walk towards him. “What are you doing here? I thought you moved to America?”

“Lost my scholarship, so I transferred back here. The Lit program is better, anyway.” He drags his eyes over me. I’m instantly aware that I’m not wearing any makeup and my hair is still wet. He doesn’t seem to mind. A slow smile spreads over his face. “Shit, Hope. It’s been ages. How have you been? You’re looking good.” 

“Oh. Um. I’m fine.” 

“Yeah?” He leans against the shelf. “Doing your Master’s?”

I nod, then point back down the aisles. “Um, actually, I have a deadline, so I can’t hang around--”

“Wait, wait.” He takes a step closer and catches my wrist. “Listen, Hope, I am so sorry. The way I left you was just — horrible.” 

“It’s okay,” I mumble. “It’s all in the past, now.” 

He shakes his head. His eyes are so kind. “Please. Let me take you to dinner and make it up to you. It’s been ages. I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to.” 

I can’t believe this is happening. As a teenager, I used to dream of this moment, replaying it in my head obsessively. He steps closer, so our arms brush, and my body responds the way it used to. I close my eyes as heat rushes over my skin. This is the closest thing to romance I’ve had in years. “I’m—Um. I’m busy for the rest of the week. And I’m going home to see my mom this weekend.”

“How about next Saturday, then?”

I hesitate, unsure. My hungover brain isn’t working at full capacity. The problem is, Landon isn’t just an ex. He used to be my best friend. Yeah, the way he left me was shitty, but he helped me through the toughest time of my life. He helped hold my family together when I was falling apart. He used to make me feel so safe, and cared for, and I miss that feeling. Now he’s standing here, hotter and gentler and more mature than he was before, trying to say sorry. It’s impossible for me to hate him. Maybe, if I let him apologize, I’ll finally get some closure. Maybe I’ll be able to get over the walls he’s built in my head, and stop feeling so bloody broken. It’s so odd that I’ve bumped into him today, right after my little breakdown last night. It feels like a sign from the universe. It’s time to get over this.

“Come on. Please. I insist.” He checks his watch. “I’ve got to go to class, but—here. Give me your phone.” He texts himself, then slips it back into my hand. “I’ll call you, yeah?” 

“I—yeah.” I mumble.

He grins, that dimpled, gold-star grin that used to drive me crazy, and brushes past me. “See you around, Hope.” 

He disappears around the book stacks, and I stare at his name on my phone screen. It’s been four years since I last saw it there. Four years since I sobbingly deleted his number, heart-broken, in my mom’s hospital room. I’m four years older, and finally, I feel like I have a chance to move on. To grow up.

I take a deep breath, pocketing my phone, and head for the doors. I need to get my shit together. I find Josie eating lunch in the beer garden of the campus pub. The ladies hockey team are all there, sprawled over the seats, fully kitted out in their blue shirts and tiny black skirts. Josie spots me as soon as I push open the glass pub door.

“Look at that,” she tips her head back lazily, smiling up at me. Her hair’s pulled back in a ponytail, a few strands sticking to her cheeks. “It’s Hope Andrea, come to see me. How are you feeling, baby?”

“Hope,” I correct. “Um. Hi. I’m fine. Can I speak to you? Please?” 

She stretches out her arms, groaning. “God, please don’t make me move, conditioning this morning was fucking brutal.” 

“What is it with Vardemus and wall sits?” Alyssa, the captain, wonders. “It’s got to be some kind of fetish, right? No one normal is that obsessed with quads.” 

“I think he just gets off on pain,” Josie mutters, taking a deep swig of her green juice. “What’s up, babe?” 

“Well.” I shift my weight. I’m not a hundred percent sure how to subtly ask her to teach me how to orgasm in front of her whole hockey team. I take a deep breath. “I was thinking about what you said, this morning. If the offer still stands, then yes. I’d like your help.”

For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Just stares up at me. Fear clenches my insides. She’s changed her mind. She’s about to tell me that she was just hungover, and she got caught up in the moment, but now she’s realized that she doesn’t actually want anything to do with me, and the whole idea disgusts her, and she’s trying to think of a kind way to let me down gently—

She stands up, putting a hand on the small of my back, and steers me firmly into the pub, pushing me into a dark little alcove next to the kitchens. 

“Are you sure?” She asks, her voice low. 

I nod, a bit helplessly. “I’m so sick of being like this. I’ll never be able to have a relationship until I get over it. I feel like everyone else is moving on, growing up, and I’m just... stuck.” 

She winces, sympathetic. “You know you can have a relationship without sex, Hope. I’m sure there are people out there who would love to date you, even if you never slept together.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Would you?” 

She hesitates. Her face says it all. “See!”

“But sex is all I’m good for, babe! No one would want to be in a relationship with me where we don’t fuck. But you’re different. You’re smart and pretty and sweet and amazing, just how you are.”

“But I want sex!” I say it a bit too forcefully. A student in the pub server uniform looks up from where she’s wiping down a table.

I lower my voice. “I need it. I’m so sexually frustrated, all the time.” A waitress comes out of the kitchen, balancing three plates of burgers. Josie nudges me out of the way, crowding me up against the wall. Her skirt brushes the bottom of my dress. 

“Okay. Well, then I’d be happy to help you.” She swallows. “There’s three main options. If you want to keep it hands-off, I could just give you advice. Or—watch you get off, and give pointers.”

I’m already shaking my head. “That won’t work. I’ve read so many websites and books and leaflets. There’s nothing you could tell me that I don’t know.” I steel myself. “What’s the other option?” 

She looks down at me, her brown, full of softness, eyes. “I could touch you myself. Have sex with you. Make you come.”

I can feel my heartbeat in my skin. “Is that not weird?”

She shrugs. “We’re friends, and we’re both consenting adults. If you’re down, I don’t really see an issue.” The waitress brushes past again with a tray of dirty glasses, and she puts a hand on my back, pulling me in closer. Something thrills through me.

“You free tonight? Eight o’clock?” 

“Tonight?” I squeak. 

“Why not?” Her fingers circle the back of my shirt. A pulse starts up, deep in my belly. “Gotta start sometime, right?”

I try to take a deep breath. Be brave. “Yeah. Okay. Eight is fine.”

“Great.” She grins at me, and the pulse turns into an ache. “I’ll bring snacks.” 

“Why do we need snacks?” She tucks some hair behind my ear. “Lesson one: you should always feed a girl before you fuck her. It’s only polite.”

I stare at her, open-mouthed. The door to the pub slams open, and the hockey girls come tumbling inside. “Josie!” One calls. “We’re moving out, practice is in ten!”

“Coming!” she calls, not letting go of me.

“If you’re late again, Vardemus’ll make you run suicides ‘til you’re actually literally dead.” Josie nods, pulling away.

“I’ll see you later, Hope. Don’t stress, okay?” She gives my shoulder a quick squeeze, then she’s gone, jogging after her teammates.

I sag against the wall, watching the way her short hockey skirt brushes the back of her muscled thighs. What the fuck did I just agree to?


	5. Chapter 5

At five to eight, I’m shaved and made up and pacing around my bedroom, stressed out of my mind. I don’t know what I’m doing. Why did I think this would be a good idea? How is getting sex lessons from the girl I’m in unrequited love with going to help anything? I won’t be able to come, and she’ll get annoyed, and then she’ll hate me. She’ll hate me, just like Landon. 

For the fiftieth time this evening, I grab my phone to call her and cancel--but before I can unlock it, there’s a knock on my door. I almost trip over my bed in my hurry to open it. When I see Josie, my heart squeezes. 

She’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and joggers. Her hair is down and curling damply around her shoulders, darkened by her post-game shower. Her eyes are lighter than the sky. 

I must look terrified, because she smiles, touching her thumb in between my eyebrows. 

“Relax, Hopey. I’m not gonna just push you up against a wall and ravish you.” 

She slips past me into the room and chucks a packet of chocolate buttons at my chest. I catch them before they slide to the floor. 

“Your favorite.” She flops onto my bed with a groan. “Mind if I put some music on?” 

“Uh. Sure.” I turn on my speaker, and she connects it to her phone. A slow, low-fi song starts playing quietly, washing over us. She stretches out on my bed, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“Jesus, our coach is having some kind of sadistic episode, I swear. I’m not gonna be able to move tomorrow.” She tips her head up at me. “Wanna spoon?” 

I stand awkwardly on my rug. I’m not sure what’s going on. I assumed this lesson would be a bit more naked, but she looks more like she's settling in for a nap. 

“What’s happening?” 

“I’m trying to relax you, babe. You look like you want to run away. It’s hurting my feelings.” She pats the quilt next to her. “Come sit, eat your chocolate.”

I sit down gingerly on the edge of the mattress. She shuffles closer, crosses her legs. Her knee brushes mine. 

“So,” she says, very kindly, reaching out to take my hand. “How much experience do you have?” 

“I’ve only ever had sex with one guy. Landon. I dated him from when I was sixteen to eighteen.” 

“And you never tried again?” 

I shake my head. “I was too scared.” 

Her entire body stiffens. “Scared? Hope, did he do something to you?” 

“God, no. Nothing like that. It’s just, whenever I had sex with him—” I trail off, trying to say this in a way that doesn’t sound totally pathetic. 

“He peed on you,” Josie finishes, nodding understandingly. “Been there.” 

I blink. “What? No!” 

“He put it in the wrong hole? Men do that sometimes.” 

“No, I—” 

“You found out he was your cousin.” I shove at her shoulder, and she grins, biting down onto a chocolate. 

“No, nothing like that. It just… hurt.” I look down at my hands. 

She tilts her head, not saying anything. I can hear her breathing, steady and reassuring. The music ripples slowly around us, like waves. Rain slides down the windows. “It hurt so much.” 

She squeezes my hand. “Oh, babe. Did you get checked out?” I nod. 

“I went to the gyno, she said there was nothing wrong, that I was just too tense. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t relax. And every time we had sex after that, it just seemed to get worse and worse.” I push some hair behind my ear. “The night we broke up, we were having sex, and I just—couldn’t put up with the pain anymore. I told him the truth. When I admitted he’d never actually made me orgasm, he broke up with me on the spot. And I’ve not had sex since.” 

She frowns. “But baby, why didn’t you just tell him he was hurting you?” 

I look down, my cheeks burning. “I know. I know it was wrong. It’s just—” I swallow. “You know my dad left when I was sixteen?” She nods. “It sort of… destroyed my mom, for a while. She got really depressed, just stayed in bed all day. She wouldn’t get up to shower, or eat, or anything. So I looked after her by myself.” I swallow thickly.   
“I didn’t have many friends back then. It was just me, sixteen, trying to look after my mom, and work, and cook and clean and do all the chores—and that was on top of studying for my GCSEs. I didn’t have anyone to talk to. My dad was gone, my mum was gone, and it was like—I didn’t have any family anymore. I just lost it overnight.” I feel her sharp breath against my cheek. “But then I met Landon, and I wasn’t alone. I had someone to look after me. He was so sweet and kind and helpful. I fell in love with him so fast. I just—I needed someone to love me, I think. Just one person.” 

I can feel tears suddenly shivering in my eyes, and look at my fingers. I don’t want to cry. “And I knew, I knew, that if I told him I didn’t enjoy having sex with him, he’d break up with me. And I’d be completely alone.” I look up at her. “I couldn’t do it alone, Jo. I was just tired.” 

She looks like her heart is broken. “Oh, baby. Come here.” She gently nudges my head so my chin slots against her shoulder, and wraps an arm around my back. I take a deep breath and let my weight tip into her. She rubs my arm. “Did he warm you up properly?” 

“I mean, we kissed a bit, and he’d feel me up, but mostly he just got right into it.” Her mouth twists. 

“Asshole. That’d hurt anyone, babe. If a girl just stuck three fingers in me with no warning or build up, it would hurt me, too. You should’ve snapped his dick off.” 

I feed her another chocolate to appease her. “You said you can’t make yourself come? Do you jack off?” 

I shake my head. “I don’t think I’m very good at fantasizing. I just get stuck in my own head, trying to make it happen. Then I get frustrated.” 

She considers for a moment. “Well, I’m not a sex therapist, so I can’t make any promises. But I can’t just sit and watch you get more and more sexually frustrated until you shrivel up and die. I’ll help you. On one condition.” My lungs squeeze. 

“Yeah?” 

She leans closer. Her hair grazes my cheek. “You have to promise to tell me, if you want to stop. Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, or it’s painful, or I’m doing something you don’t like. I won’t be offended. I won’t stop liking you. If I find out I hurt you, it’ll really fuck me up.” 

“I promise,” I whisper. 

She gives my cheek a little nuzzle, then smiles, sitting back on her haunches. “Alright, then. Any questions, before we start?” 

Yes. I have one very, very big question. “What happens if I don’t come?” I blurt out. 

“I get on the university tomorrow morning and announce it to the entire student body. It’ll be really embarrassing.” 

“Jo.” 

“Nothing happens, baby. Except I’ll probably buy a pizza to cheer you up. And we’ll try again some other time.” She pushes some hair behind my ear, and I shudder.   
“Lesson two,” she says, curving the pad of her thumb around the shell of my ear. “Sex isn’t just about orgasming. Foreplay is fucking great. It’s like the difference between a five-course meal, and a frozen pizza.” Her finger trails down the curve of my neck. I go very still. 

“Relax,” she whispers in my ear. “Build up to it.” She tilts her head, her eyes soft. “Can I kiss you?”

I nod, warily, and she leans forward, cupping my cheek, and presses our lips together. 

Her mouth is hot and soft, and it tastes like chocolate. I’ve not spent much time kissing; there didn’t seem to be any point. It would only make me more sexually frustrated, and it’s not like I’d be able to follow through. But suddenly, I get why people like to kiss. Josie kisses like no one else I’ve ever kissed before. Slow and hot and sliding. Her tongue traces the seam of my lips, and my mouth falls open on a gasp. 

She licks her way inside me, then bites down slowly on my bottom lip. A moan falls out of my mouth, and she pulls away. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes star-bright. “You are,” she whispers, “so adorable.” She presses a final tiny kiss on the corner of my mouth, then pulls off me and straightens. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” 

“I—-what?” I stare at her lips. I want more kisses. 

“A film. You like Pride and Prejudice, right?” She bats her eyes at me. “I illegally downloaded it onto my laptop for you, babe.” 

My mouth is dry. “But… I thought we were...”

She yawns like a lion, stretching, then bends to pick up her bag. “You know, I’m not really in the mood right now. Maybe later. We’ve got all night.” She slides out her laptop and loads up the film. “Get in here,” she orders, patting the pillow. 

I shuffle up so I’m pressed next to her, and sit stiffly through the opening credits. I’m confused. Has she changed her mind? Is she stalling? Is she desperately trying to come up with an excuse to leave? She sighs and puts her hand on my thigh. 

“Relax,” she says, in my ear, making me shiver. “You’re all tense. Trust me, okay?”

I nod, staring at the screen. After a few scenes, I relax into it, leaning against her side. I can smell the soft scent of her apple shampoo. 

She strokes my thigh absentmindedly with her thumb, and heat slowly starts to burn between my legs. 

Then, about half an hour into the film, she turns and kisses my neck.


	6. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to breathe, and Enjoy!!

It’s just a little kiss.

A soft, hot press of lips that leaves my skin prickling under my shirt. Exhaling in relief, I twist to catch her mouth, but she pulls back. 

“Don’t mind me,” she murmurs. “Keep watching the film.” 

“But—” 

“Go on. My computer has probably contracted some terrible virus for you, the least you can do is pay attention.” 

Reluctantly, I turn back to the screen. A few minutes later, it happens again. Her lips touch the side of my throat. Again, I turn to kiss her back. Again, she pulls away. 

“If you stop watching the movie, I’ll stop,” she warns. “I’m just occupying myself, here. Look, Darcy’s being sexy and repressed again.” 

I take a shaky breath and turn back to the laptop. 

Her lips move back to my neck, gentle as a rose petal getting dragged over my skin. I close my eyes as my blood pressure skyrockets, forcing myself to stay still. 

She kisses my neck for a long, long time. Anyone else would have moved on by now, but she's very focussed. It starts to drive me crazy. 

Her mouth is so hot and wet, on my throat, my collarbone, under my jaw. I squirm on the bed, feeling my pants getting damp under my skirt. She gets a little of my skin between her teeth, and my whole body jerks towards her. 

Her tongue flicks against the sore skin and heat spills through me, burning. I moan. 

“Mmm,” she murmurs, doing it again. “I like when you make noises. Will you take your shirt off?” 

“I-if you will, too.” Immediately, she grabs the hem of her t-shirt and yanks it over her head. 

I stare at her chest. I’m used to seeing her in a sports bra, but today, she’s in plain pink cotton. Her boobs are so soft and white. My hands ache to touch them. I fiddle desperately with the buttons on my shirt.

She laughs. “You need a hand with that?” 

Before I can respond, she’s leaning forward, efficiently unbuttoning my blouse with strong, quick fingers. I stay still as she gently pushes aside the panels and stares at me, her brown eyes darkening. 

“Fuck.” She bends and kisses the little bow between the cups, and desire gushes through my blood. 

I shift my weight, trying to get some pressure between my legs. “You’re stunning, Hope.” 

“Please,” I whisper, looking at her. “Please.” 

She presses her cheek into my cleavage, rubbing into me like a cat. Without a shadow of a doubt, the feeling of a girl’s face between my tits is more arousing than anything Landon ever did to me. 

I arch my back, overwhelmed. She glances up at me, smiles, then reaches out and pushes the bag of chocolate right off the bed. 

“Whoops!” She says brightly. “I’d better get that.” 

Before I know what’s happening, she's slid onto her knees on the floor, and her mouth is on my thigh. I gasp. 

“This okay, babe?” She kisses a little higher. 

“Yes.” 

“Mmm.” She pushes forward until her head is under the tent of my skirt. I shudder all over as I feel her hot mouth on my thighs, her hair sifting against my sensitive skin. 

“Andrea,” she groans, reaching up to trace the seam of my pants with her finger. “You wear lace under these little skirts? Fuck, I’m never going to be able to look at you again.” 

My breath catches on a gasp as she nuzzles into the damp fabric, then gives me a tiny peck. The sensation is so sudden that I flinch away. 

“Okay?” she murmurs, stroking my thigh soothingly. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Just—I’m not used to having someone’s teeth so close my vagina.” 

She looks taken aback. “I’m not going to bite you.” She pauses. “Well, maybe, but only the teeniest, tiniest of bites, like barely there –” She catches lace between her teeth, and my hands twist in the sheets as she slowly drags my pants down my thigh with her mouth. 

“Oh my God.” I whisper.

“What’s Darcy up to?” She asks, conversationally. I glance at the screen. 

“He’s—proposed badly.” 

“Men,” she huffs. I feel her hot breath puffing over my curls, heating the sensitive wetness between my legs. 

“Can I taste you?” 

“Please.” 

She kisses me. She kisses me, between my legs, just like she kissed my mouth. Soft at first, dissolving into deep and wet and sliding. My hips twitch a tiny bit against her face, and she hums, low and pleased, tightening her fingers on my hips. 

Her tongue slides up my folds, one long lick, and I almost fucking pass out. 

“Jesus. You taste amazing,” she mutters, licking back down again. Then she touches the very tip of her tongue to my clit. My mouth falls open. 

“Oh,” I say, as she gets my clit between her lips and gently sucks. Everything in me pulses. I can feel myself swelling under her lips. 

“Oh.” I say again. “Fuck.” My voice is so soft and breathless I can barely recognise it. 

“Lift your skirt up, honey. I’m suffocating.” I do, dragging the cotton up over my thighs, and her tongue swirls against me, scaldingly hot. With every stroke, tension pulls deep in my belly. Again. And again. And again. 

I can feel pressure building, hotter and hotter inside me. My eyes close, as weakness washes over me. She pulls away, balancing her face on my knee. 

I squawk like a sad bird, and she strokes my thigh, gentling me. “I know, baby, I know, don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you. I just have to ask you something.” Her fingers trail between my legs, fluttering delicately across my clit. 

My hips jerk helplessly. “I can keep going with my mouth, or I keep going with my mouth, and my fingers. I really don’t think it should hurt too much now, but some people just don’t like penetration.” She brushes her fingertips very lightly around my entrance, occasionally dipping just inside. It feels ticklish and teasing, and suddenly I ache inside, so bad, like I’m empty and clenching for something to grab onto. 

“Try it,” I say, “please.” 

She kisses my knee. “Hold my hand?” She offers me her free hand, and I squeeze it as she slides a finger into me. I tense, waiting for pain, but it doesn’t hurt at all. 

“Okay?” 

I nod, and she crooks her finger. There’s this soft, sensitive spot inside of me that I never even knew about, begging to be touched. When she rubs up against it, sensation rushes across my scalp and down my spine. My whole body jolts like I’ve been electrified. 

“Fuck!” 

“So,” she says, sounding like she’s trying not to laugh, “this is your G-spot. Contrary to popular belief, it definitely exists.” She bends and presses a quick kiss to my curls. “Hurt, baby?” 

I shake my head, and she smiles. 

“Want me to go hard?” 

“Please.” She puts her mouth back on me, and starts fingering me in earnest, moving deep inside me, a steady, pulsing rhythm that rubs again and again over that tiny soft spot. 

My muscles all seize. I can’t get a full breath in. I’m gasping, choking, squirming under her mouth, and she's moaning into me, gripping my thigh. 

“Jo—” my hand twists painfully in her hair. “Oh, fuck!” 

I can feel something building, something hot and wild and massive. Every cell in my body is tightening, spring-loading. Suddenly, I realise, it might actually happen. 

“Wait no don’t stop,” I pant, terrified she’ll pull away again. I’m being wound tighter and tighter, arching off the bed, fisting the sheets, grabbing at her hair, sweating and shaking and crying out. 

She doesn’t stop. She goes harder, lifting one thigh over her shoulder and pressing in even closer. She wraps her lips around my clit and sucks, pounding deep inside me, and it’s all too much. 

I unfurl. 

My orgasm hits me like a wall. I don’t see, I don’t hear, I don’t feel, my mind is just empty and gold and singing. 

I can feel Josie stroking my thigh, but it’s like my senses have zoned out, and it’s all just pleasure, big hot rushing waves of it that roll over me again and again. 

Josie licks me gently through it, waiting for my muscles to relax again, then turns and kisses the inside of my thigh. 

“You’re fucking incredible,” she whispers. 

I stare up at the ceiling as it comes back into focus, gasping. “I just—did I—”

“You had a spectacularly amazing orgasm.” She nuzzles the inside of my knee, then grins up at me. Her cheeks are pink and wet, her mouth kissed-red. “Now, normally, I’d keep going until you couldn’t walk, but I think that’s enough for your first day.” 

I just blink down at her, breathless. I can feel my muscles starting to shake. 

She frowns, sitting up on the bed and pulling me into her lap. “Are you okay, honey? Too much?” 

I open my mouth, but I can’t speak. My throat tightens. She fumbles around the bed, and grabs at my blanket, bundling it around my shoulders. 

“What’s wrong? Oh, God. Did I hurt you? Fuck, fuck, fuck—” 

I shake my head. “I just— I th-thought there was something wrong with me.” 

She relaxes, kissing my temple. “Aw, babe. Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re perfect. Perfect, perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so fucking perfect.” 

“I thought I’d never be able to—thank you.” I kiss her damp face, and her fingers clench on my waist. “Thank you.” 

She grins. “Trust me, Hope, the pleasure was all mine. Here.” She grabs the bag of buttons and pops one into my mouth. “Get some sugar in you. How do you feel?” She rubs my back. “You’re all shivery.” 

I put my face on her shoulder to hide my blush. Would it literally kill me to be cool for once? “Good. Kind of—overwhelmed, I guess.” I didn’t even know an orgasm that big was in my body. 

“Aw, baby. It’s okay, it’s normal.” She puts another chocolate in my mouth, then kisses my bottom lip. 

“This is life-changing for you, right? It’s okay you feel weird. Stop being embarrassed, you never need to be embarrassed with me. Here.” She shifts me around on her lap, snuggling down into her, and reaches for her laptop. 

“I’m buying you celebratory first-orgasm pizza. You like yours with pineapple, right?” 

“I… Yeah.” 

“Mm.” She nips at the ends of my hair. “Maybe that’s why you taste so good.” 

The blanket slides off my shoulders, and I feel her soft, warm boobs pressing against my back. I shudder, then twist around so I’m facing her, cupping her cheek. 

She goes very still as I slide my hand slowly down her throat, feeling her pulse battering through her skin. When I reach the strap of her bra, she catches my hand. 

“What are you doing, babe?” Her voice is hoarse. 

I blink at her. “I thought… Don’t you want…” My eyes drop to her crotch. “It’s your turn.” 

She shakes her head, closing her fingers around mine. “This is about you, only. Okay? Just you.” She kisses my fingertips. 

I frown. “You don’t want me to touch you?” 

“Nope,” she says cheerfully. “Nowhere you wouldn’t normally.” 

“But aren’t you, like—” My eyes skitter over her boobs. Her chest is covered in a pink flush. She shifts under my eyes, squirming a bit. “You don’t want me to help?” 

She smiles lazily. “I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry about me. Thin or deep crust?” Lifting the corner of the blanket, she covers my naked chest back up again.


	7. Josie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!

I spit out my mouthguard and yank the straps of my shin pads, dropping my stick onto the turf. 

“Saltzman!” Alyssa, our team captain, claps me on the back.

“I don’t want to see any more high sticks. You almost amputated Dana. Whatever shit’s got you distracted, leave it in the changing rooms.”

I nod, and she raises her voice, addressing the whole team. “Cool off, guys. Get an early night. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.” 

As the other girls start chattering and jogging off the pitch, I pull out my water bottle and squirt it directly into my mouth.

Cold autumn air freezes the sweat sticking my shirt to my back, but it’s not enough to cool me down. I know exactly what’s distracting me. 

Hope was incredible last night.

 **Incredible**.

I can still see the way she looked when she came, head tilted back, pink and trembling and fluttering against my mouth. I swear I can still taste her.

I’ve wanted my hands on her since the moment I saw her on the very first day of uni, but I never thought I’d feel this strongly about her after having sex with her once. 

I sling my gym bag over my shoulder and head off the pitch, thinking hard. I need to be so, so careful with my next move. I am in serious danger of catching real feelings.

I remember Hope’s hand, sliding up my chest, the first shy move she made to touch me, and my thighs clench.

I had to stop her; I couldn’t cope.

I’m sure, if I let her touch me, the last barriers I have will break down, and I’ll just fall head-over-heels for her. Which is the worst possible thing I could do. Even now, all I want to do is kiss her again. I want to hold her. I want to curl myself up around her, all small and soft and warm, and just be with her, all the time.

I’m playing with fire. When I get back home, all gross and covered in sweat, Hope’s in the lounge. She’s fallen asleep on the battered leather sofa, cuddled up in a pink blanket and surrounded by highlighted papers. She looks so cute that I just stand and stare for a few seconds. She stirs.

“You’re such a creep,” she mumbles, not opening her eyes. 

“Right?”

She lifts her arms to me, making grabby hands. “I’m all sweaty,” I protest, coming closer. She shakes her head and clutches my hand, yanking me onto the sofa next to her. “

"You smell good when you’re sweaty,” she mutters, putting her face in the curve of my neck.

She’s in silky pajama shorts, and her smooth thigh presses up against my bare leg. I take a deep breath. “Sore?”

She looks at me through narrowed eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s a legitimate question!”

“I’m good. Fine. Thank you. Just trying to get my reading done before I go home this weekend.” She yawns, curling up like a kitten. “I keep fallin’ asleep.” 

“Looking forward to your birthday?”

She stretches, then nods.

“Mm. It’ll be nice seeing my mom. She’ll probably just want to talk about what I’m doing after graduation, though. And that’s always depressing.” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when we’re not living together.” 

“Me either,” she says quietly, snugging a bit closer. She watches me play with her fingers silently for a few minutes.

“Josie?”

“Hmm?”

“How come you never date?”

I glance across at her, and she shrugs, embarrassed.

“I mean, I’ve seen you shag so many girls. But you never have a girlfriend. Why?” 

“Ah, shagging is all I’m good for, really.” I grin at her. “And I am excellent at it.” Her cheeks flush.

“That’s not true!”

“I’m not excellent at it? Baby! That’s not what it looked like last night!” I nudge her with my hip. “I’m just joking. I don’t really have a great track record with relationships.” 

She bats her eyes at me. “Some pretty girl break your heart?”

“In a word, yes.” I go silent. She waits for about five seconds, then starts kicking me.

“Jesus, okay, fine. Back when I was seventeen, I met this girl online. Pen. Most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen. I was at the point where I’d worked out that I was gay, but I was still pretty scared about it. But she was twenty-seven, and she was so confident, she didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought about her. She’d kiss me in public without even thinking.” Hope’s frowning.

“Hang on. You dated a twenty-seven-year-old when you were seventeen?”

“It’s not like that,” I wave her off. “Anyway, I was head-over-heels for her, but she could never work out what she wanted, you know? She had this on-again-off-again boyfriend, and she could never decide if she wanted me or him. One day, she’d be all over me, the next, she’d have her tongue down his throat. I was completely in love with her. Like, I was convinced one day we’d settle down together. But in retrospect, she really just used me for sex. He was her real relationship; I was just for messing around with.” 

“Gross.”

“Right?” I rub strands of her hair between my fingers. I remember having sex with Pen. It was always amazing—like we were setting each other on fire. But afterwards, when she’d rolled out of bed and left me staring at the ceiling, I’d feel empty and sad and dirty. Like a used tissue. I shudder.

“I was always her last resort. I knew that, but I liked her so much, I didn’t care. I’d come running like a puppy, every time she snapped her fingers. It was years until I managed to cut her off.” 

She looks confused. “Why, though? You could have any woman you wanted.” 

I pull a face. “It’s like--when I first realized I was a lesbian, I didn’t know any gay people. All my friends had boyfriends. Obviously, this was before gay marriage was legalised. There were barely any gay people on TV. I couldn’t picture a future with another woman. I figured, since I couldn’t marry a guy, I’d never have a relationship.”

Hope puts her chin on my shoulder. Her breath brushes my cheek.

“And then she came along, and she wanted me, and it felt like the sun coming out, you know? I guess I thought she was my only shot at being happy.”

Hope picks up her mug of tea and takes a deep swig. “So you’ve given up on romance completely?” 

“Not completely. I think it just made me realize that I don’t actually like being in love very much, you know? Yeah, it feels really good, but it also feels really fucking bad. And it makes me stupid, and desperate, and weak. I think staying in that relationship was probably one of the lowest points in my life.”

A shiver crawls down my spine, and she covers me with the blanket, too. “Yeah, I’d much rather stick to casual sex. It’s what I’m good at, it’s what people want from me, and I am more than happy to give it to them. I’m in control this way.”

I stretch my legs out under the blanket. “I mean, c’mon. Who’d actually want to date this?” I wave over my sweat-sticky body and ratty old gym clothes. 

She stares at me through the steam curling up from her mug. “Lots of people! Josie, that’s messed up. It sounds like she really manipulated you. Being in a relationship isn’t supposed to make you feel stupid. You were a minor, and so vulnerable.” She looks so worried, bless her.

I reach across and rub the little wrinkle between her eyebrows. “Don’t worry about me, Hope. I am completely fine. I just—know now to be more careful. Not let people fuck around my feelings, you know?”

She just keeps looking at me with giant crystal blue eyes. I swallow. “I mean, never say never. If I fell in love with a girl, and for some reason, she actually wanted me back—sure, I’d date her.”

She tucks the blanket close around my neck. “I think you’re meant to start the relationship first, then fall in love.”

I pet the back of her head. “Oh, my sweet little bisexual, didn’t you know? Lesbians do it the other way round.”


	8. Josie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Two updates today!

The next night is Hope's birthday party, and I am running late. I’ve been late all day. I can’t seem to get my shit together; my mind keeps wandering back to Pen. 

Ever since Hope asked about her, I’ve felt off-kilter. It’s not nice, being reminded of a time I was so completely pathetic. It makes me feel small and naked and kind of sick. I think I’ve blocked most of that out. 

I jump off the bus and jog through the rainy streets of queen's row, dodging past drunk old men and fourteen-year-olds zooming through puddles on BMX’s, until I make it to our worn-out front door. 

I take a deep breath and pat my leather jacket down, checking that Hope's present is still firmly tucked in my pocket, then push open the door and step inside. 

The music is already pumping. People greet me as I slip through the crowd, but there’s only one person I want to find. My skin is crawling for her. 

When I spot Hope standing next to the drinks table, everything in me goes still. She looks unbelievable. Like, I couldn’t even fantasise someone this beautiful. 

Everyone here is dressed in stretchy, clingy, sexy stuff, but Hope's wearing a silver fairy dress, with a soft tulle skirt that bursts out from her waist and floats down to her knees. As she moves, I can see the curved silhouette of her thighs through the fabric. She’s glowing under the flashing blue and white lights, her milky white skin sparkling, like she’s shining with tiny diamonds. 

She’s facing away from me, so I sneak up behind her and wrap my arms around her from the back. She squeaks in surprise. 

“Hi,” I say, directly in her ear. “I missed you.” 

“We saw each other yesterday,” she protests. 

I put my hands on her waist and twirl her to face me. Now I’m close enough to see that her lips are slicked with something sheer and glossy, and she’s covered arms and chest in shimmery body glitter. My insides just melt. 

“God. You look like Cinderella, Hope.” I touch her skirt. “You’re a Ballerina.”

She laughs softly “My name is Hope. You do know that, right?” 

“Tinkerbell,” I breathe. “How do you look like this?” I trail my fingers down the sparkles on her arms and collarbone, and she closes her eyes, pink lips parting. “You’re like a fairy. A Christmas ornament. I could put you on top of a tree.” 

She rolls her eyes and opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, someone drunk slams into her from behind. She staggers, almost falling, and I grab at her waist. Her hips press into mine. She licks her lips, clinging to the front of my leather jacket. 

I sway her to the music. “Enjoying the party?” She pulls a face. 

I have to laugh. This isn’t Hope’s scene at all, but our housemates will take any excuse to get wasted. I tip my forehead against hers. “Wanna see my present for you? Think we’d better do it in private.” 

“Why? Is it an orgasm?” 

“It isn’t just one orgasm. It is many, many orgasms. But not from me.” 

She frowns as I put my hand on   
the small of her back and start guiding her through the crowd. “Are you selling me off? I knew it. This whole time, you were just prepping me to pimp me out.” 

“Bedroom,” I say in her ear, gently pushing her towards her bedroom door. “Now.” 

We step into her pretty blue bedroom. She flops onto her bed and looks at my mouth. She needs to stop doing that. I pull a small black box out of my jacket and present it to her with a flourish. 

She opens it cautiously. Inside, nestled on a hot pink satin cushion, is a silver bullet. 

“Lesson three,” I announce, “is masturbation. Very important. You need to explore yourself, Hope. Learn what you like. What gets you going.” I drop down onto the bed next to her. Our bare arms brush. 

“Wow,” she says, rolling it out of the box and weighing it in her palm. 

I nudge her with my hip. “That is such a good vibrator. I did loads of research. My internet history is disgusting. I keep getting recommended ads with dicks on.” I squidge closer to her. “Want me to show you how it works?”

She blinks up at me. Her cheeks are pink. “I, um, assume you press the button and it vibrates.” 

“Yep. See? You’re a natural. But there’s different settings and stuff. Here.” I take the bullet, tapping the rounded point. “Put your finger here.” 

She does, and I press the button. The whole thing starts to whirr and buzz. Hope jerks slightly. I press the button again, and it speeds up. And up. Then it starts pulsing. Her body tenses up next to mine. 

“Oh.” She bites her lip. “But--” 

“But what, honey?” Her face heats up. “It’s just. I don’t know if I’ll be able to, um, get it in me. Um. It’s a bit bigger than your finger.” She looks so embarrassed. 

“Oh, babe. Doesn’t have to go in you.” I lift the vibrator to her neck, trailing it down the line of her throat. 

Her hand clutches in her puffy skirt. She’s not wearing a bra, and I can see her nipple peeking through the silver fabric. I check her face, then touch the very tip of the vibe against it, testing her sensitivity. She twitches delicately, then presses forward, leaning into the toy. 

“Oh,” she moans. “Oh, fuck.” 

Heat starbursts between my thighs. I swallow and press the button, changing the setting to a steady pulsing. Her hands fly out, grabbing my shoulders. Her lashes flutter closed. 

It’s incredible, watching how easily overwhelmed Bella gets by sensation. She’s so new to good sex, she gets turned on so hard and so goddamn fast. It’s magic. 

As the vibrator circles around her nipple, she pushes her face into the crook of my neck, her chest swelling with gasps. I slide my arm around her waist, tug her closer, and she shudders, her fingers brushing the inside of my thigh. 

Fear and lust and uncertainty sweep over me in one big wave. If I don’t stop right now, we’re going to end up fucking. And I can’t do that. I can’t. I switch off the vibrator and clear my throat. 

“And, of course, it feels fucking magic on your clit.” 

“Sorry,” she gasps, untangling herself. Her blush has spread down her neck, colouring her chest. “I’m so sorry, I forgot. No touching. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, honey.” I reach up, tinkle her dangly earring. She shivers a bit under my finger. “I figured you could take it home with you, see if you can get yourself off. And then when you get back, we can have another session. You can show me what you’ve learnt.” I grin. 

“I’ve put lube in your bag. It’s the self-warming type; it gets hotter and tinglier the more you fuck. It drives me crazy.” 

She groans, flopping down onto the mattress. “Fuck,” she mutters, covering her face with her hands. “Stop.” 

I pat her thigh, laughing. “Sorry to tease you, Hope. Would a birthday kiss make it better?” 

She nods, grabbing my arm and tugging me down clumsily. I end up falling half on-top of her, our bodies pressed together. She looks up at me, breathless and pink, all spilled against her pretty robin’s-egg bedspread. 

I feel her thighs clench under her silver fairy dress. Slowly, she winds her arms around my neck. “You know you’re my favorite person,” she whispers. 

My heart expands. Just grows, blooming like a flower, until there’s petals shoving between my ribs and I need to take big, big breaths to try and get my lungs to expand enough. She just watches me with her shiny, dark eyes. 

“Hope—” I say, my voice hoarse. 

“I don’t—” 

She tips her lips up like a sunflower, and I catch them with mine. I remember my old high school physics teacher once telling us that almost all the elements in the human body were made inside stars, products of chemical reactions as they burned and exploded. 

Kissing Hope, I can finally feel it. I can feel my body was once stars. I slide my hand under the silky curtain of her hair, cupping the back of her neck. The kiss is hot and sliding and wet and so, so hungry. This isn’t right. It’s not a lesson, it’s just passion, pressing our bodies together. 

Soon, her hips are jerking, making tiny aborted circles against mine. She can’t keep them still. I resettle my weight on her, sliding my knee between her thighs, crumpling the silver taffeta of her skirt. She moans, rubbing up against me, and I close my eyes, pushing back, grinding, and for a moment—everything just melts. 

Then there’s a knock, and the door gets shoved open. Hope jumps upright, pushing me off her. Alyssa is standing in the doorway. 

“Wow,” she says. “Okay. Your mom’s here, Hopey.” She gives us an amused look, then slinks away. 

Hope covers her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. “She’s early. I told her I was getting the train tomorrow.” She fumbles around the bed for her phone, groaning when she turns it on and it lights up with messages. “She’s driving through. I guess she decided to just give me a lift.” 

“Well. Text me when you get in,” I say, getting awkwardly off the bed. 

She nods, patting down her hair. “Yeah. Yeah. Hey, do I look ravished?” 

“Everyone who’s been in my company longer than five minutes looks ravished. Don’t worry, it suits you.” I wrap her in a hug. “See you, baby. Happy Birthday.” I kiss her quickly on the forehead, then drag my lips to her ear. 

“And don’t forget your homework. I’ll be checking your work very thoroughly.”


	9. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the death of Josie Saltzman.

My birthday weekend is boring, but nice, which is the way I like it. Mom and I keep it very lowkey. A few years ago, I thought that she’d never even see me turn seventeen; now every celebration with her feels like a milestone. 

She bakes me a cake, and we spend most of the weekend chatting and eating and watching films. I wouldn’t ask for anything more. 

Josie texts me on Sunday night, while we’re in the middle of a reality dating show. 

'I hope you haven't forgotten ur homework ;) '

The sudden thud of heat between my legs is so strong I almost drop my slice of cake. 

I haven’t touched the vibrator yet. 

It’s hidden inside a balled sock at the bottom of my suitcase. I’m scared to try it. It’s one thing for Josie to get me off; but I don’t think I’ll be able to make myself come. And if I don’t, I’ll feel terrible. 

I turn off my phone and try to focus on the show, but that tiny text burns through me. It’s all I can think about. 

On screen, two of the contestants kiss, hot and heavy. I shift, remembering Josie's mouth on my throat. And the inside of my thigh. And my nipple. 

I stand up abruptly, smiling at my mom. “It’s getting late. I think I’ll go to bed.” 

One hour later, I’m twisted up in my sweaty sheets with my shiny new vibrator between my legs, and I still can’t come. 

I just can’t do it. 

I press the vibe against my clit, rub it in circles, and I can feel myself building up to some kind of peak, but no matter how long I try, I just can’t reach it.

Without Josie’s hands, gentling me, relaxing me, I can’t get out of my own head enough. I try to slide the bullet inside myself, remembering Josie’s fingers crooking in me, but it hurts so much I feel like I’m tearing something. 

I have to blink tears out of my eyes. I give up, pressing the off button and flopping down onto the sheets. 

A hot wave of shame bursts up in me, squeezing my chest. There is something wrong with me. What girl can’t even get herself off, for God’s sake? Instinctively, I grab for my phone. 

Josie picks up on the fourth ring. 

“Hey, babe.” Her voice is rough, like she was asleep. “What’s up?” 

“I’m so sorry,” I babble, “I can’t do it.” 

“Can’t do what?” She pauses. “Hey, honey, are you crying?” 

“No. Just—I’m trying to do like you told me, use the vibrator, and I thought it would be easier this way than with my hands, and I’ve been trying and trying and I got so close but I can’t finish, and I’m just so fucking mad at myself—” 

“Wait, wait, hold on. Slow down. You’re lying in bed, jacking off right now?” She sounds strange. 

“Yeah.” 

“Fuck, Hope. You can’t just call a girl and tell her that.” 

“Sorry. You’re right, this is—weird.” I sniff. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why do you keep apologizing, honey? Why would I be upset?” 

“Well, you’ve spent all this time trying to help me, and you bought me a vibrator, and I still can’t make it work—” She tuts. 

“You have to get over this idea that you owe people orgasms, babe. You’re a woman, not a sex toy. Your orgasms are for you, not anyone else.” 

I squirm in the sweaty sheets. “It’s just so frustrating. How can you do it to me, but I can’t do it to myself? I really need to come, and I can’t.” 

“Jesus. Okay, sweetheart. Please don’t be sad. What do you want from me?” 

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I was just upset, and you were the person I wanted to call.” She makes a soft noise. 

“Want me to talk you through it?” 

“You’d do that?” 

“‘Course. You’ve gotten yourself all worked up again, you’re just too tense. Hey, this can be two lessons in one. Touching yourself, and phone sex. I was gonna include it in the syllabus anyway.” She clears her throat.  
“You up for that?” 

I’m doubtful. “I don’t think it’ll work. It’s still my hands. It’s easier when you’re here.” 

“Well, imagine I am there, then. If I were there—well. I wouldn’t be using the vibrator. Not yet.” 

I frown. “What would you be doing?” 

“I’d probably have your thighs over my shoulders and my tongue in your pussy.” I choke, and her laugh bounces down the line. 

“Where are you? In bed?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Naked?” 

“I still have a t-shirt on.” 

“You wouldn’t, if I were with you. I would have most definitely removed it.” Her voice drops slightly. “Take it off.” 

I do, wriggling out of the thin cotton and tossing it onto the floor. “Then what?” I ask, heart thudding. 

“Lie down.” 

“Why?” 

“Because if I were there, I’d push you back into the sheets and I’d touch your tits. Fill my hands with them. Squeeze them. You have such fucking exceptional tits, Hope, I don’t think you understand.” 

I feel goosebumps tickle across my chest. Heat pangs in my belly. I slide back onto the pillows, listening. 

“I’d kiss your throat, and I’d keep kissing, all the way down your collarbone. Down between your exceptional tits. I’d start rubbing my thumbs over your nipples.” A pause. 

“Then I’d put my mouth on them.” I close my eyes. I can almost feel it, the hot wetness lapping over my nipple. Scalding breath puffing against my chest. My breathing gets quicker. “Yeah?” 

“First I’d kiss them.” 

“And then?” I’m entranced. 

“And then I’d suck them. Hard. I’d go between them, and I’d keep sucking and rubbing at them until they were all pink and wet and you were shaking and gasping underneath me.” My back arches. I whimper. 

“Then,” I hear her swallow. “Then I’d slide my hand between your legs, very slowly. Feel how wet you are. Do that for me, babe. Are you wet?” 

I touch myself between my legs. My fingers come back glistening. “Y-yep.” She laughs. 

“Think you’re ready for that vibe, now, honey. Get the lube, squeeze some out, just slather it all over the vibrator. Get it nice and slippery.” I do as she says, my fingers trembling slightly. 

“Okay.” 

“Good girl. Press it between your legs for me. Don’t turn it on. Just slide it over your clit.” I do, my breath catching. “Then push it in. Gentle, gentle.” 

There’s a tiny ache, but nothing unbearable. “That hurt, baby?” 

“Not much.” 

“Good. Good. Slide it in and sort of—crook it upwards, toward you.” I flinch when I do. 

“Yeah.” 

“Now turn it on,” she whispers. I fumble for the little button and press down. The little bullet buzzes to life. I jump. 

“Move it around a bit, 'til you find where it feels good.” I do, twisting it awkwardly—then cry out as heat buzzes through my belly. 

“Oh my God!” I shift in the sheets, my body trying to understand this new sensation. “Holy shit!” 

She chuckles. “Try drawing little circles inside you, with the tip.” 

I do, and all my bones melt. “Oh, my God!” The vibration shudders through me, buzzing deep in my belly. 

“How’s that lube? You like it?” 

“It works,” I grit out. It really is self-heating. Every time I shift, it gets hotter, and I get wetter. It feels like I’ve been set on fire. I twist in the sheets, trying to get some kind of relief. I keep squirming, trying to rub myself, soothe myself, cool the aching heat pooling and tightening deep inside me. 

My back arches. My hips can’t stop moving, my ass pushes into the mattress. Josie’ s still speaking to me over the phone, her voice soft. 

“Baby, baby, baby. You got it. That feel good?” I can barely answer. My breath is hitching too hard in my chest, over and over again, hiccuping through my blood. “If you were here…” I manage. 

“If I were there, I’d be lying on top of you, one hand around your throat, the other stroking that vibe inside you. I’d be kissing you so hard and fucking desperate that you could barely breathe. I’d be grinding  
all up against you, rubbing our tits together.” I moan, bucking. Sweat dribbles down the back of my neck, dampening my hair. I can feel the muscles deep in my belly tensing. 

“Oh, God! Josie...” 

“You almost there, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah. I—” I close my eyes, tightening my grip on the sheet. “Yes, yes, yes—” 

There’s a soft creak, like she’s just rolled over in bed. “If I were there,” she says quietly. “I’d find the button on the vibrator, and turn it up.” 

I gasp in a breath and nudge the button. The vibrator switches gears, shaking hard inside me, and I almost scream. My hands clutch at the sheets. My hips buck desperately, begging for some kind of weight on top of me. 

It’s too much. Too hot, and too much, and I’m grinding on the vibrator, desperately pushing down on it, trying to get as much pressure as I can—but it just buzzes deeper inside me, deeper and harder. 

“Please,” I splutter. “Please. Oh, God. Jo please just, I need to—“ 

“Okay, sweetheart,” she rasps. 

“Come for me.” 

The wave crests. I close my eyes and just let it hit me. I come a lot. For what feels like forever. Waves and waves of it crash over me. Every time one retreats, another builds and washes over my body. 

I’m sobbing and moaning and panting, gripping my pillow, the little bullet still buzzing and trembling deep inside me. Eventually, I tune in to hear Josie's soft voice cooing down the phone. 

“There you are, babe,” she’s saying softly. “There you go. You’re perfect. Perfect, perfect. Fuck, so perfect.” 

“G-god,” I mutter, when the waves finally retreat. My hips jerk away from the vibrator, and I yank it out, flopping into my wet sheets. 

“Oh my God.” 

“Can you video chat me a sec? I want to see you.” I wipe my sticky hand on my quilt and fumble at my phone, finally managing to hit the little camcorder button. Josie’s face pops up on the screen. Her lips and cheeks are flushed red. I watch her, still panting. 

“Are you okay? Sounded intense.” 

“No. No, no. I feel—great. Really great.” I shudder, closing my eyes, as a little aftershock rocks me. 

She takes an audible breath in, her eyes scanning my face. Then she grins, wide and beaming. “You did so good! You’re just flying through the curriculum.” She makes a gesture like she wants to touch my face through the screen. 

“Wipe away those tears for me, babe. I don’t like ‘em.” 

“They’re not bad. I’m not sad.” 

“Tears of pleasure. Very common when having phone sex with me. But still. Don’t ever wanna see you cry.” I lift the corner of the quilt and dab at my eyes, then flop my head back on the pillow. My afterglow floods through me, filling me up from head to toe. I’m melting into the bed. 

“Feel better?” She asks. “Reckon you’ll be able to get to sleep, now?” 

“I wish you were here,” I blurt out, looking blearily at the screen. “I miss you.” 

Her lips quirk. “I miss you too, baby.” 

“I love you.” I’ve told Josie I love her a hundred times, but this time, it doesn’t feel the same. It feels like a confession. 

She freezes. She’s so still, for a second, I think the video feed has cut out—except I can see her shoulders moving as she breathes, awfully hard, considering she’s an athlete and has been completely sedentary for the last few minutes. She wets her lips. 

“I love you too,” she whispers, and my body suddenly feels too full, like my lungs are giant and can’t expand for me to breathe. Like my veins are about to split at the seams. The secret inside me grows and swells until I’m about to burst. I have to tell her I’m in love with her. I have to. I can’t stand it anymore. 

Refusing to say something doesn’t make it any quieter. “Josie, listen—” 

She cuts me off, suddenly looking uneasy. “Um. I’m sorry, honey, I really have to get going.” 

I frown. I don’t get in until late tomorrow. I can’t wait until Tuesday morning to see her. 

“You’re doing a pub night for the hockey initiates tomorrow, right? Can I come, when I get in?” 

“I--sure. It’s at the Duke. Sleep well, yeah?”

The video call ends abruptly, and I stare at the phone in my palm, then drop it back onto my mattress. 

Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow.


	10. Josie

Hiding my phone in my lap, I tap furiously at the keyboard. Hope was supposed to be at the pub by eleven, but so far, she’s not shown. I’m getting worried. 

J: Is everything okay? Y aren’t you here? 

H: I’m almost there, there’s roadworks on the motorway 

H: <3 cant wait to see you. I love you x 

I smile soppily at the screen until Alyssa kicks my foot under the table. 

“Hey. You’re social sec. Socialize.” 

I look up at the huddle of drunk Freshers crowded around the battered pub table. We’re in the Duke and Duchess pub, an incredibly shitty student pub with a particularly wankery name. The air smells of cigarette smoke and chips. A football game is playing on T.V. screens around the room, but no one’s watching. 

You don’t come here for a pint; you come here to get so fucked up you spill your kebab down your front and end up shagging on a pool table. It’s one of the Ladies’ Hockey Team’s top venues. 

“Boat races,” I declare, pointing to the pitchers of cheap fluorescent cocktails at the end of the table. “Split into two teams. Last team to down their drink does a forfeit.” 

They all rush to fill up their glasses, and I check my phone again. My heart stutters when I read the last three words. I love you.

I remember when she said it last night, sweating and pink, and heat rises to my cheeks. She means as a friend, right? She loves me for helping her out. Giving her orgasms. 

I mean, let's face it—girls are usually pretty appreciative after sex with me. It’s something about the way she said it, though. Normally, when girls say they love me, they don’t whisper it to me in the dark with soft, sparkly eyes, like it’s a secret. 

I stare at the screen, as if it’ll give me any answers. Alyssa kicks me again, and I sigh, standing up. I need some peace and quiet. 

“I’m just going to the loo,” I announce to the table. “No cheating.” 

As I push through the crowd towards the bathrooms, a girl brushes close to me. Her perfume is hot and spicy, and it sends me reeling backwards. In the low light, I can’t make out her face—just bold red lips and soft black curls. 

Ice slides into my veins as she lays a manicured hand onto my chest. “Josie", her voice is low and husky. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” 

I open my mouth, but I can’t speak. For a moment, something like panic wells up in me, hot and urgent. I haven’t spoken to Pen in years. Years. How the Hell did she find me? 

The girl moves closer, and the light from the bar illuminates her face. I take a deep breath, trying to slow my heart. It’s not Pen. It’s just some other girl I slept with. 

She raises an eyebrow. “Josie? You okay?” Suddenly, the little bar seems way too small and smoky and hot. The walls are closing in like in an Indiana Jones booby trap. I can’t breathe properly. I force myself to grin at her. 

“Sorry, babe. I gotta go.” I plunge into the crowd, shoving through bare arms and sweaty bodies, until I’m out in the beer garden. 

It’s a foggy night, and the air feels thick and heavy. I gulp it up in lungfuls, grinding the heels of my hands into my eyes. 

I don’t know why the Hell I can’t get Pen out of my head, recently. It’s like the closer I’ve gotten to Hope, the more I’ve been thinking about her. It’s scaring me a bit. 

I sure as fuck don’t want to get back with her, so why is she even in my brain? I close my eyes and lean my head back against the crumbly brick wall, listening to the dull thump of music inside. I feel uneasy. Pen swirls behind my eyes like a horror movie warning. 

A car wrapped around a lamppost. Warning. Danger ahead. “Josie?” 

I open my eyes. Alyssa is striding around the corner. “Are you okay?” I smile weakly at her. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just—thought I saw someone.” She looks at me closely, then pulls a cigarette out of her cleavage and joins me at the wall, leaning against the cold brick. 

“What’s up?” She roots through her pocket. “Fight with your girlfriend?” 

I sigh. “You know I don’t do girlfriends.” I don’t get loved by girls, I get fucked by them. I am probably too easy to fuck. 

She finds her lighter and clicks it a couple times before the end of her cigarette sparks. “No? Because I’m pretty sure I walked in on you violently snogging Hope a couple days ago.” 

“Kissing is not dating.” 

“Looked like it was heading into more than just kissing.” She inhales smoke, then breathes it out into the night. “We both know Hope. She doesn’t do casual flings. So why don’t you stop lying and just tell me what’s happened?” 

I don’t say anything. 

She purses her lips. “You know it’s my job to look after the well-being of my team, right? You’ve been MIA all weekend. You’re distracted, you’ve been avoiding all of us. Is it her? Are you two a thing, now?” 

“No. We’re not dating. I’ve just been giving her lessons. In, you know.” I clear my throat. “Sexual confidence.” 

She snorts. “What, like listening to Beyonce, and stuff?” 

I look down at my hands. “They’re… practical lessons.” 

She stares at me. “What? You’re shagging her, so she can have the confidence and go and shag other people?” 

“Essentially.” 

Alyssa doesn’t say anything for a long time, staring up into the night sky. There aren’t any stars out; everything is clouded with grey. Eventually, she takes a deep breath. 

“You know you’re good for more than just sex, right?” I turn to her. 

“What do you mean?” 

She won’t look at me. “I get that the last girl you fell in love with essentially used you as a vibrator every time her boyfriend couldn’t get her off, but you do deserve an actual relationship.” 

“I know I deserve one. I just don’t really want one.” 

“No? Because from what I’m hearing, you’re teaching the girl you’ve been in love with for three years how to fuck another man.” I scoff. 

“I am not in love with her.” 

Alyssa takes another drag and doesn’t comment. 

“I’m not in love with her!” I protest. 

“Okay. Imaginary scenario. Thanks to your tutelage, she goes on a date with a nice boy, and falls in love with him.” Sweat crops up on the back of my neck. “They get married. Have three kids. Move away, and live happily ever after, blissfully shagging using your patented sex tips until the end of their days. And you’re stuck watching her life through the pictures on her Facebook feed. How does that make you feel?” 

I can feel the blood draining out of me. “No.” It comes out almost like a moan. Oh, fuck. Oh, this is bad. 

“You love her.” Alyssa concludes, rubbing her forehead. “I just don’t get why you’re letting her use you like this.” 

I shake my head vehemently. “She’s not using me. Hope would never use someone.” 

“Maybe she’s not doing it on purpose. But at the end of the day, she’s getting fucked, she’s going to get a partner, and all you’re getting out of it is a broken heart. Why, Josie?” My mouth dries up. 

“You think she’ll only want you for sex? Is that what your ex told you?” I swallow. 

“I guess--I mean, yeah.” 

She blows out a perfect smoke ring. “Tell me.” 

“Well--Pen and I fought a lot, is all. I remember this one fight, we’d gone clubbing together, and she ended up kissing this guy. So I went home, like, sobbing my eyes out. She turned up at my house at three in the morning, completely plastered, and tried to sleep with me. I told her no, and she got so fucking mad at me. She said—” I trail off. 

“Well. A bunch of shit. That I was boring. That I thought I was way more interesting than I really am. That no one would ever actually be interested in me, and the only reason she kept me around was to fuck me. And if we weren’t going to do that, there wasn’t any point in seeing each other again.” 

I remember, before I met Pen, I imagined sex as making love—magic and intimate and tender, two bodies tangled up together. Instead, it was just getting fucked and getting left, over and over. But I loved her too much to say no. I loved her so much I’d say yes, no matter what she did to me. 

Alyssa’s face shines in the low light. “Ah, fuck, Jo.” 

I smile weakly. “You know the worst part? I didn’t even leave her. I forgave her the next day. And she never even apologized.” 

“Shit.” She leans back against the wall. “It’s hard to imagine you like that.” 

“Right? Because now, I act like I’m confident, and strong, and charming, and whatever the fuck else. It’s not true, though. It’s a lie.” 

She shakes her head. “You were seventeen, she was ten years older than you, she took advantage of you. Don’t blame yourself for that.” She frowns. “Is that why you sleep around so much? You’re scared of being in a relationship? You’re scared of being in love?” 

“They’re never going to love me. Not like I love them back.” 

“Have you told Hope all of this? Because I’m willing to bet she wouldn’t be letting you tutor her if she knew.” I shake my head. 

“Talk to her. Use your mouth. For speaking,” she adds quickly. “Talk to her, and if she’s not interested in taking this further with you, stop sleeping with her. It’s tearing you apart.” 

“Because—I love her?” Shadows play over her face. 

“Because you love her. You idiot.” 

“Oh.” My heart is beating so fast, it’s hurting my rib cage. My phone shudders in my hand. I check the screen. 

H: Almost there <3 I have something to tell you xx 

I shake my head, trying to clear it. “She’s, um, coming soon. I’m gonna get her a drink.” Alyssa nods, breathing out smoke. 

I stumble to the bar and order two glasses of rosé, then prop myself up on a barstool as I wait. 

How could I have been so thick? Is stupidity a progressive disease? Of course, I fucking love her. 

Memories of Hope swim around in my head, all lit up in this sunlight-gold glow. Cuddling with her on the couch. Dancing with her in the club. Kissing her in bed. Fuck, even the way she drinks her morning cup of tea knocks me the fuck out, and I don’t know how to put that into words. 

I don’t want to be in love. It seems too dangerous. But--if I had to fall for anyone, Hope's the best person, right?   
She’s not Pen. She’s gentle. She touches everything so carefully. 

I rub my chest, try to breathe. “Hey, there,” someone says above me. I look up to see a tall guy leaning against the bar next to me. 

He’s cute, for a man. Perfect white smile, a dimple in his cheek, curly black hair. He nods at my drinks. 

“Wine, eh? I’m more of a lager guy, myself.” 

“Sorry, I’m not interested,” I say as kindly as possible. He laughs. 

“I’m not hitting on you. I was just wondering—you’re Hope’s roommate, right? I’ve seen you guys together on campus.” 

I frown. “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“Landon Kirby.” He sticks his hand out for me to shake. “Nice to meet you.” 

It takes a few seconds to click. “Hope’s ex, Landon?” He nods, a dimple popping up in his cheek. 

Fuck. Shit, he really is attractive. I try to look at him from Hope’s perspective, taking in the biceps and the   
strong jaw. Something like jealousy slips into my blood. 

“What are you doing here? She said you went to America.” “

Transferred a couple weeks ago. I bumped into her in the library last Wednesday.” 

“Last Wednesday?” I frown. My brain is smudging. That’s when she came to me in the pub garden, all flushed and embarrassed, wanting help with having sex. 

He nods. “Yeah. We’ve actually got a date this weekend. I want to take her to a restaurant she’ll like, but I can’t remember anything she’s into. Figured maybe you could help me out?” I stare at him. 

“A--a date?” The pieces start to fall into place in my brain. She bumped into him, got asked out, and decided she’d better brush up on her sex skills so she could go home and fuck him afterward. And that’s why she came to me. 

He takes a deep sip of his beer. “Yeah, I’m trying to patch things up. So, what do you reckon? Sushi?” 

“Um--” My voice is hoarse. My throat is full up of brambles. “She’s vegetarian.” I cough. “Try, um. Try   
someplace Italian. She loves pizza. Cheese and pineapple.” 

He flashes me a quick smile. “Okay, sweet. Thanks, babe. Hey, don’t tell her I asked you, yeah? I want to impress her.” He pushes off the bar and disappears back into the crowd. 

I watch him go, my heart throbbing painfully in my chest. I’ve been so fucking stupid. A kind of haze falls over my eyes as the front door opens and Hope steps inside, pink from the cold. 

She looks around, scanning the crowds, then smiles when Landon intercepts her, pulling her into a hug. They look sweet together. She only comes up to the middle of his chest. I watch blankly as she goes on her tiptoes to say something in his ear. 

He laughs, and waves down the bartend, who slides Hope a drink. I look down at the glasses of wine at my hand. Then pick them up and toss them both back. I need to not be sober. I need to not think at all. The crowd blurs around me, and I lean across the bar to order something stronger. 

“Josie!” Hope calls. I wince. She battles through the knot of students and grabs my hand. 

“Josie! I’m here! Jesus, traffic was shitty.” I turn and look blankly at her. She looks beautiful, in a short white dress and denim jacket. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright. She’s still holding his drink in her hand. 

“Hey,” I start, then almost get bowled over when she throws herself in my arms. 

“I did it! Myself!” She crows in my ear. “This morning!” Her wine almost spills on me, and I grab her hand to stop it tipping. 

“Did what?” She pulls back and gives me a narrow look. 

“What do you think?” 

“I don’t—” It clicks. 

“You came? All by yourself?” She nods, lighting up again. 

For a second, I forget about Landon. I forget about Pen. I forget about the tearing feeling inside my chest. I’m just happy. I squeeze her, lifting her off her feet. 

“Aw, Hope! I’m so proud of you!” She laughs into my shoulder. 

“Oh my God, put me down. This is such a dumb thing to be proud of.” 

“No, it’s not,” I squeeze her tighter. “You got over a mental block. That’s hard work.” I set her carefully back down. “Babe, I’m so proud of you. Look at you. Owning your sexuality. Being a sexually liberated woman. Discovering the power of your pussy. I—” 

She winds her arms around my neck and kisses me. Out in public, in front of everyone, she kisses me, hot and desperate. And for a second, I can’t stop myself from kissing back. But this isn’t right. I push her gently off me, giving her cheek an apologetic stroke. It feels like someone’s pulled a plug in my feet, and all of my happiness has just leaked out. 

I clear my throat. “So, I think we’re done here, right?” 

She blinks up at me. “What?” 

“This.” I wave a hand between us. “The… classes. You’ve got all the skills to go out and fuck whoever you want. Congratulations.” 

She looks taken aback. “I—that’s it?” 

For some reason, the way she says that rubs me up the wrong way. “What else do you want?” 

“I just—thought it was good?” Her forehead furrows. “Josie—I really like you. I want to keep doing this. I want to keep — having sex with you, and kissing you, and—” 

“Well, I don’t.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it too. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

She blinks, confused. “I don’t understand. You have casual sex all the time.” 

I feel like my heart is breaking. That’s it. She just thinks I’m a constantly available piece of ass. That’s all she ever fucking saw me as. “Jesus, I’m not a fucking whore! I still have fucking standards!” My voice cuts through the buzz of the crowd. A couple people turn and stare at us. 

Hope turns red. “Oh.” She looks down. “Right.” 

“This was just lessons for you. That’s it.” I shake my head. “We’re done, now. They’re done. We’re not having sex again.” 

She pulls her jacket tighter around her shoulders, shivering in the warm air. “Josie—I don’t understand what I’ve done. I didn’t mean to upset you. Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

My head pounds. I can’t do this anymore. “Look, I have to go. Enjoy the party.” I dump some notes on the bar and slide past her, out onto the cold night street. I cry the whole way home.


	11. Hope

On Saturday night, I forget completely about my dinner plans with Landon until an hour before I have to leave. 

I don’t want to go. 

At all. 

I want to stay in bed and lick my wounds and eat ice cream.

I try calling to cancel, but his phone is switched off, and I’m not a big enough dick to stand him up. So I force myself to get up and ready, arriving at Da Mario’s at 8PM sharp. I huddle by the front door to wait for him. 

I don’t feel good. I haven’t seen Josie in almost a week, which is pretty impressive, since we literally live in the same house. She’s been leaving for practice before dawn, and assumedly staying in some other girl’s bed. 

The thought makes me slightly nauseous. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. One minute, she’s sending me kisses and love hearts and telling me how much she misses me; the next, she’s freezing me out. 

At first it made me sad, but now, I’m mostly angry. I get that I made her uncomfortable; but how can you go from fucking someone, cuddling with them, texting them every day, to completely ignoring their existence? It doesn’t seem fair. 

She’s supposed to be my best friend. At the very least, she should’ve told me what I’ve done wrong. She hasn’t even given me a chance to fix it. Her words rattle around my head, turning my stomach. I still have fucking standards. 

Rain starts to spit down on my head, and I shiver and check my phone. Landon’s fifteen minutes late. I think about just leaving, but I’m starving, and the savoury smell of cheese and dough is floating enticingly through the open restaurant door, making my mouth water. I decide to head inside to my table and order. If he doesn’t show, at least I’ll have had a good meal. 

I’m halfway through my Cesar salad when the door opens again. I glance up, and my heart sputters when I see Josie step inside, surrounded by a flock of other hockey girls. She’s dressed for a night out, in a stretchy black dress that clings to her ass and brings out the muscle in her thighs. 

I watch as the whole group slides into the booth right next to my table. This has to be some kind of cruel joke. 

As if she can feel my eyes on her, Josie glances up, and everything just… fades. Dissolves. Like we’re in a movie scene, and someone just softened the camera focus. 

Her eyes slide over my face, then down my front, taking in my tight dress, trailing over my exposed collarbone. 

A hot, heavy thrum starts up inside me, and for the first time in days, I forget how shitty I feel. I open my mouth, about to—I don’t know, to say hello, or call her over, or something, but I’m interrupted when a chair scrapes out opposite me. 

I look up to see Landon in a faded band shirt, his wet hair dripping from the rain. “Sorry I’m late, Hope,” he says loudly, hanging his jacket on the chairback. “I was napping, forgot to set an alarm.” He glances at my chest and whistles. “Liking the dress. Thanks for making an effort, babe. Wish you’d waited for me to order, though.” 

I force myself to smile at him. “Sorry, I was starving.” 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the colour drain out of Josie’s face. She stands and picks up her bag, turning to go. Her hockey captain collars her by the back of her dress and shoves her back down into the booth, looking immensely unimpressed. 

They start an urgent-looking, hushed conversation. Under the table, the tip of Landon's shoe grazes the inside of my calf. I look up at him. 

“This isn’t a date,” I warn. “You know that, right?” He puts his hands up. 

“Whatever you wanna call it, babe. Just want to catch up. And apologize.” He turns around, looking over his shoulder. “Jesus, how long does it take to get a waitress around here?” 

The meal doesn’t actually go too horrifically, although that might be because I can barely hear anything coming out of Landon’s mouth. 

It’s funny. I’ve dreamt of this moment for years. Years, wishing he’d just call me and say sorry. And now that it’s happening, I can’t even focus on him. All of my attention is on Josie. 

I watch in my periphery as she picks at a ramekin of pasta, barely eating anything. She looks completely miserable. I jump when Landon suddenly puts his hand on mine, twining our fingers. 

“Look, Hope. I really am sorry about how things ended. I should’ve been more understanding.” 

“Yeah.” I try to pull away my hand, but he clings on. “You should’ve. Let go.” 

“I’ve been kicking myself for letting you get away. Like, shit. You’re still the hottest girl I’ve ever dated.” Josie bristles in her seat, and sharp annoyance stabs through me. 

She’s judging me for letting him take me out to dinner. As if it’s any of her business. It stopped being her business when she decided to chuck three years of friendship down the drain. Landon’s apparently still talking. 

“Still think I did the right thing, though. Better to dump you than cheat on you.” I narrow my eyes. 

“I don’t really think those were your options, though, were they?” 

He frowns. “Christ, you’re in a bad mood tonight. Maybe we should get you a glass of wine, or something. Hey!” He clicks his fingers at a passing waiter. 

I meet his pale blue eyes. “I mean, we could’ve still had sex. Maybe if you’d bothered with foreplay, it wouldn’t have been so difficult for me.”

“Woah. Don’t blame me. You’re the one with the problems.” 

“Well,” I say after a moment. “I have a vibrator, now. Happy to report everything is functioning fine. So, I guess it was just you, after all.” 

He snorts. “Seriously? Gross. Here’s some advice, babe—toss it. No guy wants to hear about a girl jacking off.” 

At the next table, I see Josie put her head in her hands. 

I stare at him. “You think it’s embarrassing for a woman to masturbate?” 

“Course. Like, you prefer a piece of plastic to a man? I’m just saying, guys don’t really like that.” He pulls a face. “Like, there was this girl I dated for a bit back in the States, who told me she watched porn before every time we banged. Which is gross, right?” 

I narrow my eyes at him. Was he this awful when I dated him? I think back and fight the urge to wince. I think he was, and I was just too emotionally drained and utterly desperate to notice. God, how bloody embarrassing. He’s still talking. 

“Like, I get why you’re mad, but it all turned out for the best, didn’t it? Dumping you gave you the incentive you needed to sort yourself out. Now you’re fixed. You’re welcome.” 

I grit my teeth. “I wasn’t broken.” 

He winces. “No offence, Hope, but you kind of were. What’s the point of dating a girl who can’t come?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I hear Josie say, and suddenly, she’s standing right by our table. “Excuse me, can I borrow Andrea a second?” 

Before I can answer, she’s wrapped a hand around my wrist and is dragging me out of the restaurant and onto the little stone-paved patio. 

Cold night air gushes over her, mixing with her flowery perfume. My head spins. It’s the first time she’s touched me in a week. She pulls me over to the wall where no one can see us. 

“Look,” she drops my arm. “I’m sorry, I know this is out of order, and I’m overstepping a line, but I can’t just sit there and watch him undo all the work we’ve done together.” 

I open my mouth, but the words just keep coming out of her in this big garbled rush. “This isn’t even me being jealous, I’d do it for any of my friends. I wouldn’t let my worst enemy get back with a terrible ex. And I just… I… please tell me you’re not going to fuck him.” 

I stare at her. She’s panting slightly, her eyes glassy, reflecting the pub lights like little stars. “I—did you just call me your worst enemy?” She ignores me. 

“Do you even like him? Or are you just insulted that he dumped you?” She shakes her head. “God, that’s it, isn’t it? You feel ‘broken’ because he dumped you, so now you have to fuck him to prove that you’re not.” Her face flushes. “For God’s sake. He’s not been sitting around mooning after you, Hope. Going after him now is kind of pathetic.” 

I stare at her. “Don’t call me pathetic! Jesus, what the Hell is wrong with you?” 

She takes a deep breath. “You know he never loved you, right?” 

I feel like I’ve been slapped. Not a lot of people have loved me, in my life. Two, to be exact. Used to be three; but apparently I can cross Josie off that list. It seems weirdly cruel to try and take one of those people away from me, no matter how much of a dick he’s being. 

“That’s a horrible thing to say,” I whisper. 

“Well, it’s the truth. When you’re in love with someone, you never, ever want to hurt them. He hurt you, and only stopped when the pain got so bad you physically couldn’t handle it anymore! If he loved you, he would’ve been doing what I was doing with you. And he has the nerve to think you should thank him for fixing you?” She runs her hands through her hair. “God, I could fucking kill him.” 

My stomach is souring. In three years, I’ve never seen this side of Josie before. I hate it. “What? You mad you didn’t get the credit?” 

“No!” Her eyes widen. “That’s not what I was doing! You were never broken. The point of these lessons was to stop you feeling so tense and scared and anxious about sex. Not to make you orgasm on demand for some selfish prick who thinks your sexual pleasure is all about his ego. For fuck’s sake, Hope Andrea! what are you thinking?” 

I agree with her, I really do, and for some reason, that’s just making me angrier. “Why do you care! It’s not like you want to be with me.” 

She presses her lips together. “How about I give you one last lesson in sex? When your partner treats you like a bloody sex toy—they’re a dick. When they look at your orgasms as scoreboards to their ego—they’re a dick. When they make you feel ashamed or broken or defective for how your body reacts—they’re a dick. Your last lesson, the most important lesson I can teach you, is only fuck people who fucking respect you.” 

My cheeks heat painfully. “Like you, you mean?” I spit out. “Because I distinctly remember you shagging me, then rolling out of bed and acting like I don’t even exist. You’re supposed to be my friend—you treat your nameless hookups better than me! You’ve called me stupid and pathetic. You won’t even look me in the eye. Fuck you, Josie, you do not get to decide who I sleep with.” 

I go to push past her, and she grabs my wrist, squeezing it. 

“I won’t let you do this.” I sputter. 

“Excuse me? Won’t let me?” She shakes her head. “I didn’t spend this time helping build you up, just watch him lure you back in to fuck you and chuck you.” 

I pull my hand free, frustrated beyond belief. “I’m very grateful for you. I am. I said thank you. I will happily buy you a thank you for my orgasms edible arrangement. But you don’t own me just because you’re the first person to get me off. You don’t get to tell me who to date, or shag. I’m not here on a date with Landon, not that you even asked—but even if I were, even if I went home and fucked him until he blacked out, it would be none of your fucking business. I don’t know when you decided you could act like such a controlling bitch to me, but if I knew letting you fuck me would make you think it’s okay to treat me like this, I never would’ve. God, I wish I’d never even let you touch me. Now fuck. Off.” 

She blinks. Sucks in a deep breath. Then turns around and leaves, slamming back into the restaurant. Tears burn my eyes and fall down my cheeks. The anger billows away. I wipe off my face and head back inside, rejoining Landon. 

He’s tucking into a thick slice of chocolate cake. He points at Josie’s retreating back as she pushes through the tables. 

“What was all that about? Girlfriend jealous?” 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I sniffle, pulling a tissue out of my pocket and blowing my nose. 

“Nah?” He squints after her. “Didn’t you go lesbian for a bit? One of the guys mentioned it.” 

“I’m bisexual.” I flag down a waiter and point down to my cake. “Excuse me, can I get this to go, please?” I'm done with this evening. I need to be home. 

Landon quirks an eyebrow. “Mm. Good idea.” He cranes his neck to watch Josie push out of the door. He’s looking at her ass, I realize, feeling sick. “She’s hot. Maybe you should invite her, too. Reckon she’d be up to a threeway?” 

“What!?” 

“Oh, come on, Hope. I’m only kidding.” He stands up and winds an arm around my waist. His fingers tug playfully at the hem of my dress. “Fuck, you could kill a man in this. It’s driving me crazy.” He dips his head, and his beer-scented breath touches the side of my face. “So, you’re coming back to mine, right? I have a bottle of wine in the fridge.” 

I stare at him. “I’m literally crying.” 

He leans in closer. “I have something that’s bound to make you feel better.” I feel his hard-on press against my hip. 

I wipe my cheeks and look up at him. “And what happens if I don’t want to have sex with you right now? If I asked you to wait?” 

He shrugs. “Then I’d figure you don’t want to get back together. Shit, if you’re not interested in fucking me, what’s the point? It’s been years, you should be ripping   
off my clothes, not making me wait.” 

“Right. That’s what I figured.” I wave for the bill. “You’re right.” 

“Huh?” 

“I don’t want to get back together. Sorry to waste your time.” I chuck some notes on the table. “It’s been nice seeing you. I don’t think we should do this again.” 

“What?” 

I grab the to-go box of dessert. “I’m not interested. I thought, when you said you wanted to apologize—I thought you meant it. But you don’t.” 

“Fuck, Hope.” He grips a hand in his hair. “What is wrong with you? You seriously dragged me out here for dinner then reject me?” 

“Looks like it.” 

His face curls into an ugly snarl. “You’re always such a fucking tease. Do you get off on this?” 

“Yep. Every night, watching porn, whacking off with my vibrator.” I kick my seat back in. 

“Have a good one, Lan. Stay away from women. You can’t handle them."


	12. Hope

I’m shaking as I step out of the restaurant and into the rain. 

I’m so angry. I’m angry at Landon, for saying such terrible stuff. I’m angry at myself for always putting up with it. I’m angry at Josie, for yelling at me after she ignored me all week. I’m mostly mad at Josie. Josie hurts. 

I lean against the cold brick wall and tip my head back, breathing deeply. Out of the darkness, there’s a soft little choking noise. I peer through the falling rain, and see another shape hunched on the wet stone steps. I don’t know how I missed her. She’s crouched under the overhang, bundled up in her jacket. 

“Waiting for me?” I call out, and she jumps out of her skin. “Are you gonna tackle us in an alley, or something? Puncture my tyres so I can’t leave and shag someone you don’t approve of?” 

She raises her head, and my blood freezes as I catch sight of her wet, mascara-streaked cheeks. I take an involuntary step forward. 

“Why are you crying?” 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.” 

“What? Called me stupid and pathetic?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean you were stupid, I just meant getting back with him... would be stupid.” She rubs her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve fucked everything up. I never should have offered to… teach you. I never should have started this.” Her mouth turns down. She looks at her feet. “It’s all such a mess.” 

I stare at her for a few seconds, then climb down the steps, sitting next to her on the cold concrete. 

“I brought you cake.” I dump the takeaway box in her lap. “Eat it.” 

“What?” I open up the lid, revealing a thick slab of sticky chocolate cake. It’s still hot, oozing fudge, topped with a snowball of melting whipped cream. I pull the plastic fork out of my pocket and hand it to her. 

After a moment, she scoops up a bite and brings it to her mouth. I look out onto the street. “You must think I’m so stupid for ever dating him.” 

She shakes her head vehemently. “You said it yourself. You were sixteen, and desperate, and completely vulnerable. You probably let a lot of things slide, because you just needed someone to show you some kind of affection. No one can judge you for that. Fuck, Hope, you weren’t even an adult.” 

“Yeah.” 

We’re silent for a while. Rain falls around us. Josie takes another bite, and I squint up at a street lamp, watching it light up the raindrops gold. 

“Will you please just tell me why you’ve been ignoring me? I don’t know what I did wrong.” 

“I—just.” She pokes the fork into the cake. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair. I realized how I felt about you, and I got scared that I’d end up like I was with Pen. Pathetic and, and—” 

“Exploited? Taken advantage of?” I press my lips together. “You weren’t an adult, either, Jo. No one could blame you, either.” 

She wipes tears and rain off her cheeks. “I guess it honestly hurt me more than I realized.” 

My throat aches. She was only seventeen, fresh out of the closet, when this adult woman started using her. Of course, it hurt her. 

“I thought you were doing the same to me. I was angry. And hurt.” 

“But I don’t understand. Why would you think I’d take advantage of you?” Her mouth twists bitterly. 

"But you have casual sex all the time,’” she repeats my words from Monday night. “I’m not a call girl. Just because I like sex, doesn’t mean you can get it on tap.” I’m exasperated. 

“I didn’t mean it like that! I just didn’t understand why you’d happily sleep with other women, but not me. You were so gentle and loving in bed, you were clearly turned on, but you wouldn’t let me touch you.” 

“I figured that if I let you, I’d probably fall in love with you.” She smiles, wiping her eyes. “Turns out, it’s a bit too late for that.” 

I stare at her. “You’re in love with me.” 

“Apparently for quite a long time.” A tear slides down the soft curve of her cheek, then drops, trem  
bling, onto her collarbone. 

Slowly, I reach out, curling my hand around the back of her neck. She freezes like a deer in headlights. “What?” She whispers. 

I lean forward, feeling her warm breath flutter against my face, and touch my mouth to hers. It’s the gentlest kiss I know how to give. Her lips tremble for a second, then part on a sigh. 

“No. Stop.” She pulls away, wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. Which isn’t at all offensive. “I’m not going to be your side-piece. The girl you come to when your boyfriend isn’t getting you off. I can’t do that again.” Her eyes glint darkly. “You can’t just come out of a date with him, and kiss me. Don’t you see how unfair that is?” 

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s never going to be.” I rub my eye. “I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I only did because he didn’t see any of my texts asking to cancel. I wish you’d just asked me why we were having dinner, instead of assuming I was going home to fuck him.” She frowns. 

“But… that’s why you came to me for tutoring. He asked you on a date, and then straight after, you came and found me.”

“He said he wanted to apologise. He seemed like he’d changed, and I wanted to get over this--block in my head. I figured, getting some closure from him would be the first step. And accepting your offer to help me would be the second. I was so miserable, for so long, and I knew I had to change it.” My heart shudders in my throat. “And then I slept with you, and I realized—this.” I lean closer, pressing our arms together. 

“This is what I want. You.” 

She puts the box down, tugging at her hair frustratedly. “I can’t just fuck you, Hope, don’t you get it? Trust me, there is nothing I want more right now than to let you drag me home and toss me into bed, but what happens then? You sleep with me until you get bored, or find someone that you actually want to date. And I end up pathetic and heartbroken and utterly destroyed.” 

I stare at her. “For God’s sake, Josette! How much clearer do I have to make this? I love you. I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you. I’ve spent the last three years pining over you, and imagining myself with you, and crying myself to sleep because I thought I could never have you.” 

“What?” She whispers. “But—on Monday you walked straight up to him.” 

“No, I didn’t. He grabbed me as soon as I walked in the door. He’s pushy as fuck. I was just being polite to him so I could leave and speak to you. It’s you I want.” I take her hand. She stares as I wrap my fingers around hers. 

“I want you to be my girlfriend. I want to fuck you and kiss you and make you breakfast and take you on dates. I want to be the person you go to when you’re sad. I want us. Together. All the fucking time. Josie, please, please, I love you so much, will you please be my girlfriend?” 

“You love me?” She looks shell-shocked. “But Ilove you!” The relief that sweeps over me is so strong, I feel like I’m melting. 

“Is that a yes?” Instead of answering, she just kisses me. She kisses me like she’s desperate for me. Her arms wind around my waist, pulling me closer to her. Her fingers grip in the sodden fabric of my dress. We kiss there, in the gold light of the streetlamp, as rain streams over our faces and drips off our hair. I don’t even feel the cold. There’s three years of love all stored up in this one kiss, and it’s setting my whole body on fire. 

Eventually, we have to come up for air. I cup her cheek, wiping away the mascara stains. “Does this mean I can touch you, now? Like, we can have sex, and you’ll let me touch you?” 

She groans, grabbing my hand and kissing my palm. “Please.” She makes to stand up, but I stop her. 

“Wait.” I nod at her slice of cake. “Finish that, before we go.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” I load up a bite of her cake and hold it to her mouth. Slowly, she parts her lips, and I slip the warm chocolate inside. “You should always feed a girl before you fuck her. It’s only polite.”


	13. Josie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter, thanks for reading!! Enjoy!!

The house is dark and empty when we stagger back inside. My room’s closer, so we make a beeline to my door. 

I slap around the wall, fumbling for the light switch, and we fall into bed, tangled up together. 

We can’t touch each other enough. Everywhere our skin brushes, endorphins flush through me. Yes, every cell in my body is saying, yes, you idiot, finally, you've got it right. 

Soon, we’re kissing and grinding up against each other, our clothes half-pulled off. She rears back and looks at me, her eyes glazed and black. She reaches out and trails her hand down my naked stomach, stroking down to the soft curls between my legs. My abs clench as her fingertips brush between my lips. She pauses. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” I mumble. 

“I want to.” She bites her lip. 

“Show me", She whispers. “I’m nervous.” 

I kiss her cheek and carefully adjust her hand. “Like this.” I shiver when she presses inside me. Her lips part. 

“You feel—God. You’re so hot, inside.” My eyes slide shut. I guide her hand in a few gentle thrusts, fighting to keep my face straight as her fingers rub in me. She picks up the rhythm quickly. 

“Good?” She whispers. 

“You’re a natural,” I mutter, then cry out when she grazes my G-spot. She does it again, and again, gently rubbing the heel of her hand against my clit, making me shudder. She’s touching me so tenderly, and it’s burning up my brain. 

Fighting to catch my breath, I peek up at her through my lashes. She’s staring at my face, drinking up my reactions, looking at me like I’m something so precious and perfect. No one’s ever, ever looked at me like this before. A weakness runs through me. 

She cups my cheek with her free hand. “Love you,” she whispers. “Love you love you love you.” 

I tip my face into her palm, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Fuck me. She’s making love to me. My heart is blazing like the sun. She dips so her mouth touches my ear. “Can I try something?” 

I nod, and she pulls out her fingers, cutting off my whine of protest by climbing on top of me and pushing a knee between my legs. She presses my wrists back into the pillow and leans down to kiss me, deeply. 

“Oh my God,” I gasp, as her slim thigh grazes my clit. She moves her hips in a slow, smooth circle, rubbing up against me. “Oh, God.” 

She strokes my palms with her thumbs. “Is this okay?” 

“Fuck. Yes. Holy shit, Hope, are you the world’s most fucking unlikely top?” I legitimately thought she couldn’t get any hotter. 

She laughs and kisses me harder, and I can feel her clit, wet and hot against my own leg, as she starts to grind against my thigh. I

gasp, my hips starting to stutter to the same rhythm. The kissing just gets hotter, hotter and hotter, and the feeling in my belly draws tighter and tighter. Noises start to fall out of my mouth, sad, desperate little whines. 

My hands slide all over her, through her hair, down her back. My hips are moving uncontrollably, getting faster, pressing up harder into her skin, We’re quiet for a moment, just kissing and kissing. 

Then-- Oh. Oh. Oh, God. It hits me unexpectedly, a sudden rushing wash that seizes me up and then scatters over my skin like warm rain. 

She cries out in surprise as I clench around her leg, and reaches down to stroke my face as I come, keeping her steady rocking motion between my legs, wringing me out. 

When my eyes finally flutter back open again, I look up at her. Her cheeks are burning, auburn hair falling all around her shoulders, and she has this shiny, sweaty flush all over her chest and collarbone and neck. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, “Fuck.” She closes her eyes, looking pained. “God, I’m so close, I—” 

“I know.” I can feel her naked clit twitching and throbbing against my leg. I sit up, pull her towards me, and wetness streaks stickily over my thigh. She moans, rubbing helplessly against me. 

“Jo,” she mumbles. “Baby, please, I’m about to die--” 

I pull her even closer, until our bodies are plastered together and I can feel her sweat on my skin. Her heart hammers against my breasts. I slide one hand between her legs, cupping her, and touch myself with the other. She hisses and bucks against me, lifting her hands to grab at my hair, and I start rubbing tight little circles with the pad of my thumb, one, two, three, four-- 

It only takes five before she’s shouting and clenching against me, her eyes squeezed closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She presses her face into my neck, panting into my skin as she shakes. 

The feeling of her breasts trembling against mine, the soft moans in my ear, the hot wet flutter against my fingers as she comes on my hand--it’s all enough to push me over the edge again, and my fingers jerk against my own clit as we grip onto each other, shaking, our bodies pulsing together. 

Eventually, the contractions finally stop, and her hips shy away from my hand. I flop back down onto the mattress, tugging her with me so she lands on top of me. She’s trembling slightly, as she pulls back her hair. 

I reach down and stroke her cheek. “You okay?” 

“Oh my God,” she gasps, as I hold her. “Oh my God, Josie. Jo. Baby—” I kiss her cheeks, and her hair, and her arms, and eventually she calms down, burying her face into my shoulder. 

That was it. That’s what I dreamed sex would be, back when I was seventeen. 

“I love you,” she whispers, and I dissolve. She curls up against me, pressing her face between my tits. I just lay there for a while, holding her, panting. 

“God. I love you, too.” Her hips twitch when I smooth my palm over her soft arse, and she wriggles uncomfortably. I slide a hand between her thighs, stroking, and she moans. 

“I know, babe,” I mumble against her temple. “Just give me a second. You’ve blown out my brains. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” 

“Aren’t we done?” 

“If you want.” I bite her ear. “We can order in, watch a film, or something.” I trace my tongue down the curve of her ear. She likes that, rubbing up against me instinctively. Our hips press together, and I feel a   
streak of hot stickiness rub up against my thigh. 

I laugh into her neck. “But it kinda feels like you need to go again, baby. You’re practically dripping all over me.” 

“We can do that?” 

It takes me a second to piece together the picture. “Oh my God,” I whisper. I forgot. She learned everything she knows from movies and one useless man who fell asleep five seconds after he came. 

“What?” 

“Oh my God.” I’m an idiot. A dumbass. A terrible teacher. She gets annoyed, shoves against my chest. 

“What?” 

“I can’t believe—” I stare at her, wide-eyed. “I forgot to teach you about multiple orgasms.” 

Her cheeks flush darker. “Multiple—” 

“You must have heard of them. I literally just gave you a visual demonstration.” 

“Well, obviously, you can,” she looks embarrassed. “But Jo, I can barely manage one orgasm.” 

I stare at her in disbelief. She says she can’t come again, while she’s squirming in my lap, red faced and flustered and so horny she’s halfway to orgasm. I put my hands under her ass and drag her up my body, pressing my tits against hers. 

She quivers on top of me, her whole body trembling with anticipation, and I have to laugh. “Christ, baby, you still have so much left to learn. I think I’m coming up with a whole new curriculum. Term two. We’ll start with spanking. That okay?” 

She smiles, pressing her hot, pink cheek to mine. “Everything. I want you to teach me everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS NOT MY STORY!!! I just put my favorite characters in the story and adjusted a tiny bit to fit those characters. ALL CREDITS GOES TO THE WONDERFUL LYRA HART.


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